Benediction
by TheWrtrInMe
Summary: "She's gone. It's your fault. Nothing will ever be the same." When Sam's world comes crashing down around her can she move on or is she broken beyond time's ability to repair? Future-fic/Adult language & situations
1. May the Lord Watch

**A/N: Hello fellow fanficaholics (I mean that in the most affectionate of ways). So I know I usually go on and on in my author's notes so I'll try to keep it short and sweet.**

**This story is called Benediction. It will be filled with angst. Please don't PM me and ask me to stop. I won't (I'm evil that way). lol.**

**My beta is super busy so I had a new one this time around. Her name is bandgrad2008 and she's my new twitter buddy. So shout out to her for helping me out.**

**Last thing…Samantha Nicole Trewyn and I have started a blog that we LOVE (and hope you will to). It's called 'You Write What? and it's for fan fiction writers and readers – it has tons of great information, funny posts, story reviews and recommendations. We do a new Featured Fandom every week and you can submit your story to be a Featured Story or have it listed for an extended review. We're also looking for guest bloggers and reviewers from every fandom. If that interests you find us on Twitter (BlogFanfiction) and click the link for the blog site.**

**Now…on with the show!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own iCarly or any related characters. Yeah…I know that wasn't very clever. Sue me. Lol**

**XXOO- TheWrtrInMe**

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><p><strong>Story: Benediction<strong>

**Chapter 1 – May the Lord Watch**

_It's too hot to wear black._

These are the words running in her head as she balances on tip toe in the soft soil to keep from sinking. She should be thinking something else; something more appropriate. But try as she might all she can consider is the way the sun is beating down on her; beads of sweat gathering at the base of her neck. She shouldn't be here.

She adjusts her weight, moving from one foot to the other, willing the horror of this day to be done, trying to keep from tipping over on the unsteady ground. No one would think anything of it – they'd chalk it up to emotion and not her inability to stand in heels. They'd think she'd simply sunk under the weight of the sadness she feels. In a way they'd be right. Somewhere inside she was sure she was sad, broken beyond time's ability to repair. But over that sadness was a veneer of guilt, too dark and thick to see what lay beneath it.

This was all her fault.

She looked up from her place at the edge of the crowd, trying her best to avoid the eyes that all felt focused on her, even if her rational mind knew the eyes were actually trained on what was in front of them.

The casket lay perched on its pedestal over the open earth; bright white and covered in the reddest roses she'd ever seen. It was absurd for something so horrible to look so beautiful. To them it was a final testament to the beauty that would soon be covered in the same soft earth she was sinking in. To her it was a sign; stark white with red neon lights blinking out the words she'd repeat to herself for the rest of her life.

_She's gone. It's your fault. Nothing will ever be the same._

The sound that escapes her mouth is a guttural moan and there is more truth in that sound than in any of the words she's managed to say in the last twenty four hours. She clamps a hand over her mouth and lowers her head, praying no one heard her, wondering if she'd really made a sound at all or if it was all in her head. It's the sort of thing a crazy person would think but she's not surprised. In the last week she's felt on the very edge of insanity more than once.

Standing beside Spencer in the iCarly studio as they decided what to do with all the props and equipment she felt sure she'd seen the bright smile of her best friend from the corner of her eye, only to have it fade into the shadows. Laying on the sofa in Carly's room that night – she couldn't bring herself to sleep in the bed – she'd felt something brush against her cheek and opened her eyes with a smile, expecting to see Carly standing in front of her, telling her to get up, that she'd slept too late again. But it couldn't be true, as desperate as she was for it to _be _true.

Carly was gone. She wasn't coming back.

She felt a warm hand rest on her elbow and looked up into the eyes of her boyfriend, dark with worry and maybe fear. His face was tear-stained. As often as she'd called him the girl in their relationship she envied him now. Envied his ability to shed tears and release what was inside. She felt stuffed to capacity with feelings too big for her to manage. Her body ached, the weight of guilt and sadness like gaining fifty pounds overnight that she'd not yet adjusted to carrying. She wished she was like him. She wished she could just let it go. But she wasn't, and she couldn't.

He didn't speak, just leaned in to place a kiss lightly on her cheek. She flinched, the same way she had at every kiss for the last seven days and the same pain she'd seen each of those times was still present. She was hurting him, she knew that. It seemed the only thing she was good at doing these days.

"Sam?" His voice was a whisper but still his mother heard him and Sam watched as she turned in her seat in the second row of white chairs at the front of the crowd.

Marissa, whose face was generally pinched with disdain, looked concerned. In the four years that Sam and Freddie had been dating she and Marissa had gone from hatred, to tolerance and as crazy as it sounded they'd arrived at a point where she knew that Marissa viewed her as family. She didn't want to see Sam hurting any more than she wanted to see Freddie hurting. It was as close to a real mother as she'd had. Once a month when Freddie got a care package from home Sam would always get one almost as big, filled to the brim with things she'd never think to buy herself, along with a note that always ended the same: Behave yourself, Take care of my Freddie. Love, Marissa. Marissa loved her – right now that fact only made her feel worse. Sam lowered her head, not wanting to answer the question in both of their eyes.

Freddie leaned in to her, "Baby, come sit down."

She shook her head, but didn't protest further when he gently pulled her along with him, wrapping her hand in his. The crowd of mourners split for them, shaking their heads and crying fresh tears as the remainder of the trio so many of them loved made their way back to the front of the gathering. She sat restlessly in the seat Freddie lowered her onto, tried not to move as she felt his arm slip around the back of her chair, pulling her closer to him. He needed her and she was trying to be what he needed. She owed him that much. The back of her neck burned and she felt the eyes of the onlookers bore into her. She imagined that they felt sorry for her and that thought made her angry.

She didn't want anyone's pity and if they knew the whole story they wouldn't be giving it to her.

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><p><strong>AN: **

**Sorry, I guess that's sort of a cliff hanger. And I know it was short (a first for me) but it's just the story intro. The rest of the chapters will be my usual length.**

**Next chapter up tonight or tomorrow (depends on when the beta has worked her magic). Hope you liked it but I won't know if you don't review.**


	2. Between You and Me

**A/N: Thanks for reviews and alert and favorites, you all rock my world. Thanks to bandgrad2008 for her great beta job.**

**Disclaimer: Don't own it. **

**XXOO-TheWrtrInMe**

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><p><strong>Story: Benediction<strong>

**Chapter 2 – Between You and Me**

They'd been rooming together for two years now. Since they'd all arrived as bright-eyed terrified freshman at USC. Freddie's mom had pulled some strings and gotten Carly and Sam a three-man room for just the two of them to share. Sam never did figure out how she did it and Marissa never revealed her source. It didn't matter, they were just happy to be able to be together. While Freddie struggled to navigate the dicey waters of having a roommate, she and Carly settled right in. After all, they'd spent the last four years of high school basically living together.

Carly's side of the room was neat as a pin, her desk organized, the clothes in her closet hanging by item and then by color. Sam's side of the room, in typical fashion, usually looked as if a small hurricane had blown through it leaving books, clothes and shoes in its wake. They'd taken the third bed and added it to Sam's. When Carly went alone to visit Spencer or pulled an all-night study session at the Student Union, Freddie would usually spend the night and after the first time they'd discovered that college dorm beds were not made for two people to sleep in comfortably. So Sam got the second bed, Carly ignored the reason she needed it, always called before she came home to make sure she wasn't walking in on anything 'in progress' and they all existed pretty peacefully.

There were the regular fights: Sam was too messy, Carly was too nosy. Sam forgot her room keys and interrupted Carly in the middle of class at least one a month and Carly complained that they didn't spend enough time together – an argument that popped up from time to time since Sam and Freddie had started dating. But it was never anything friendship-ending and eventually they always made up. They were happy, or at least that's what Sam thought.

It was in the first semester of sophomore year that things started to change. To the shock of just about everyone, college suited Sam. Doing things on her own timetable, setting classes later in the day, not having teachers breathing down her neck; that sort of freedom worked well for her and she found herself actually enjoying her classes. She was still undecided as to a major but she was leaning toward English. She'd never been very good at talking about her feelings but she'd gotten very good at writing them down. She kept an old leather bound journal under her bed – a gift from Marissa. She was finding an amazing freedom in getting it all out on paper, everything she thought and felt. Some of what she wrote was funny and some of it was so sad she couldn't even read it after it was written. She'd handed in some essays and compositions for her English courses and her professors told her she had potential. But she had time to decide.

Carly was pre-law, one of the hardest majors there was. It was cut-throat and competitive and Sam had asked Carly more than once if she was sure it was the direction she wanted to go in. Carly wasn't good with confrontation and she was driven and ambitious to a fault. She'd be the best she'd kill herself trying. Carly said she was sure – she wanted to go into Environmental or Family Law. She wanted to do something to make a difference. That didn't surprise Sam. Carly had a heart bigger than anyone she knew. So she supported Carly's dreams and she always had and kept her eyes open for any sign that it was becoming too much. It didn't take long for the signs to show up.

It started with the late nights. Sam would go to bed, Carly would be at her desk or on her bed pouring over a textbook, and when Sam woke up hours later she'd find Carly in the same spot, the room smelling strongly of coffee. The trash can was more often than not filled with empty bottles of 'Sleep-Not' and cans of 'Blue Bull' energy drinks. Carly was jittery and if she wasn't in class she was studying. Carly had always been a serious student but now it was an obsession. She'd study exhaustively for a test and then come home after the test in tears because she hadn't done as well as she wanted.

Sam had tried to talk to her about it but Carly would only get defensive. Sam had even asked Freddie to help her talk some sense into their friend but as an Engineering major, Freddie was just as busy and understood how hard it all was on Carly. He told Sam to back off and give Carly some time. He told her it would get easier. He was wrong.

In the middle of their second semester, sophomore year, Sam returned from a date with Freddie to find Carly curled in a fetal position on the floor of their bathroom, crying her eyes out. She seemed not to even notice when Sam walked in. In her hand she'd held a crumpled white paper. Sam leaned in to grab it and had to pry Carly's fingers from around it. When she finally unfolded it she saw it was a note from Carly's professor. She was failing. Sam didn't know what to say. As long as she'd known Carly she'd never known her to fail at anything – ever.

She grabbed a face towel, soaked it in cold water and sat on the cool tile beside Carly, whose tears had subsided. She lay staring out at nothing, unmoving, not speaking. Sam scooted close to her and brought Carly's head to rest in her lap. She wiped her face with the towel and sat with her, brushing the hair back from Carly's face as her tears started again. She didn't say anything, she was pretty sure there wasn't anything she could say to make it better – but she could be there. So that's what she did.

They sat like that for over an hour; Carly crying as Sam rubbed her back and wiped her tears. Eventually Carly sat up and with a heavy sigh, leaned back against the bathroom door.

"I can't do it."

"Can't do what, cupcake?"

"This," Carly said, gesturing toward the still-crumpled note on the floor, "All of this. I try so hard. I study until my eyes burn and still I just can't seem to do it. Everyone else gets it; they understand it and they don't struggle like me." Her voice was soft, her thin shoulders shaking. She looked so thin and Sam wondered when was the last time she'd eaten a real meal and why she hadn't noticed before now that the already-slim Carly was now just skin and bones. "I don't want to be a failure."

"Carls," she said, as softly as she could, even though she wanted to reach across, grab her shoulders and shake some sense into her. "You're not a failure. You're in one of the hardest programs at this school and you failed one test. One test. That's all this is. You'll be fine. I know you will."

Carly had looked at her and squinted, as if trying to believe what she was saying. Sam had been convinced that her words were true. But, again, she'd been wrong.

Over the next two months the perpetually studying Carly became the perpetually sleeping Carly. She missed classes. She wore pajamas most days unless Sam forced her to get dressed and leave their room. Sam wasn't sure how Carly was doing in her classes, but if what she was seeing was any indication it couldn't be good. On more than one occasion people from Carly's classes would stop by, checking on her, bringing her assignments she'd missed. Carly always hid in the bathroom and told Sam to say she wasn't there. By the end of the semester it was too clear to ignore. Carly was a mess and something had to be done about it.

She talked to Freddie, who was just as worried as Sam and just as clueless about what to do. They tried everything they could on their own. They brought her food and sat with her in the room, trying to get her to laugh or at least talk to them. She'd push her food around her plate, offer weak smiles and generally fall asleep in the middle of whatever movie they'd brought. They tried to get her to go out, to parties, movies, art exhibits. She always had some reason she couldn't go. Sometimes she'd say she needed to study. Sam knew that was true, she did need to study but she also knew that as soon as the door shut and Sam and Freddie were gone Cary would just bury herself under the covers of her bed, leaving her books untouched on her desk.

By the end of the semester Sam was beside herself. She mentioned to Carly that she thought they should call Spencer, that maybe he could help. For the first time in weeks there was a fire in Carly's eyes as she made Sam swear to leave Spencer out of it. When she told Freddie he was furious. Mad that she'd make that kind of promise, mad that she thought they could continue to handle this on their own. Freddie convinced her that they needed help, they obviously couldn't fix what was wrong with Carly. So against Sam's wishes he called Spencer. One of the best things about going to USC was that they'd been able to get out of Seattle – but not too far away. Marissa and Spencer could get to them quickly in case of an emergency. And this was an emergency.

Spencer arrived a day later. They didn't tell Carly that Spencer was coming; too scared the news might spook her and he'd show up to an empty room and no one having any idea where Carly had gone. When he arrived, his tall slim frame casting a shadow over the door as he entered, Carly was in her usual spot, buried beneath her blankets at one in the afternoon, still in yesterday's pajamas.

"Hey Spence," Freddie said, moving to the side so Spencer could come in. He didn't have a bag with him and knowing why gave Sam a burning at the pit of her stomach.

Carly had failed out the semester. There were only two weeks left in the semester so Spencer had decided to take her home with him and get her some help. Sam didn't want to see her go, or be here when Spencer broke the news. But she put on her big girl pants, took a deep breath and waited for it all to unfold.

"Spencer?" Carly was sitting up now, looking disoriented, her hair a mess all over her head. "What are you doing here?"

Spencer did his best to look normal. "Can't a guy come see his best little sister?"

Carly scrambled to get up, tangling herself in her blankets and falling to the floor. "I, um, I have to get to class actually Spence, so this isn't really a good time but…"

"Give it up, kid," Sam said, walking toward Carly. This had all the makings of an intervention and if she hadn't been in the middle of it she might have found it funny. But she was in the middle and it was anything but funny. "Your classes are over for the day. You missed them." She settled herself on Carly's bed and flinched as Carly shot daggers her way. She'd broken the unspoken rule. She'd gotten Spencer involved. As much as Carly hated secrets when she was on the outside of them, she'd become the queen of keeping them herself.

"Well, why didn't you wake me up?" Carly all but shouted at Sam, who just shook her head and looked to Spencer.

"Hey guys," Spencer said, addressing Sam and Freddie, "Can you give us a minute alone, please?"

"Sure, Spence." Freddie grabbed both of their phones, his wallet and headed toward the door, reaching out for Sam's hand. "We'll just go grab something to eat."

Sam reached out for Carly's hand, only to have her jerk it away and turn her back to Sam. Sam sighed and stood from the bed, joining Freddie at the door.

"Just, um, call me if you need me, kid," she said to Carly, who didn't move but when she spoke her voice was ice.

"I think you've done enough," she said. "Just go. Go live your happy life, with your happy boyfriend where you don't have to babysit your unhappy failure of a friend."

Sam moved toward Carly but felt Freddie grab her arm. She looked to him, her eyes desperate and without words he told her what she knew to be true.

'_We can't fix this. Not now.'_

In almost ten years of friendship there hadn't been a single problem they hadn't faced together. She wanted to fix this for Carly. She wanted to make all of this better, but she knew Freddie was right. This was beyond her ability to fix. And watching Carly wither away right in front of her wasn't an option. They had to do what was best. And right now, letting Spencer handle it was best.

She couldn't quite remember what they'd done in the hours after they left Sam's room. She vaguely remembered going to a restaurant and picking over her food. She knew they'd ended up in Freddie's room where she'd stared alternately at the wall and her phone, willing it to ring. Freddie probably talked to her, but she couldn't tell you what he'd said. Eventually her phone had rung and Spencer had told them it was okay to come back to the room. When they'd arrived they were shocked to see Spencer standing outside the building, waiting for them, without Carly.

"What's going on?" Sam asked. "I thought Carly was going home with you."

"Yeah," he sighed, "I thought so too."

"So what happened?" Freddie asked. "Did she convince you that nothing was wrong, because that's not true. She…"

"No, no. That's not it." Spencer raised his hands to quiet Freddie. "She knows something is wrong. She said she's been sad for a while and feeling like a failure because of school and everything. She just seems so stressed out and lost. I wasn't sure what to do."

"So you told her she could stay?" Sam's emotions were a blur of confusion. On one hand she wanted Carly to stay, on the other hand she wanted her to get help and she wasn't sure this was the best place for that.

"Well, sort of."

"What the hell does 'sort of' mean!" Sam's voice was raising and she shrugged Freddie's hand off her shoulder as he attempted to get her to calm down. "What the hell is going on, Spencer? Carly is a mess. We call you to help and now you're leaving and she's still here. Tell me what's going on! Now!"

"Sam, calm down," Freddie whispered in her ear. "People are staring."

"I don't give a flying Fruit Nooter who's staring. I want to know what's going on with my friend." Her voice broke and told the truth behind her words. She was terrified.

"Come on, let's sit down." Spencer led the way to a picnic table under the shade of a tall tree in front of the building. Sam and Freddie sat across from Spencer who sat staring at his hands. In the time Sam had known him, which felt like all of her life, she could count on two hands the number of times she'd seen him really serious. Even when he'd burned Carly's room down there was a twinkle at the back of his eyes that said 'if you weren't so pissed, I'd totally be laughing at this'. Today that twinkle was absent.

"So…" Freddie said, reaching for Sam's hand.

"She's a mess," Spencer said. "I don't think I've ever seen her like this." He looked up at them. "She had the administrative office change her home mailing address so that I wouldn't get the notices about how she was doing in school. I guess I should have known something was wrong. She didn't ever sound quite right when I called but…we never really lied to each other before so I guess I just believed her."

"But you don't believe her now." Sam said; more statement than question.

"Nope." They were all silent for a moment. "So I told her I think she needs to come home."

"Like until next semester?" Sam asked.

"No. I think she needs to come home until she's better."

"Permanently?" Sam cried, "You can't do that! She…"

"She's sick, Sam. She needs to come home."

"But…"

"Sam, you know Spencer is right. We can't watch her all the time or make her go to class or even get her out of her pajamas. We tried. Maybe we need to let Spencer do what he thinks is best." Freddie, as always was the voice of reason. But when she looked at him she could see that Carly leaving was hurting him just as much as it was her.

"Okay, so she's leaving. When?"

"Well, I was hoping you could help me with that."

"What can we do?"

"Carly is pretty upset about being back in Seattle without the two of you next semester. So I made her a deal."

"What kind of deal?"

He sighed before answering her. "Carly feels like I rushed in to save her and she doesn't want to leave here like a little kid who needed their big brother to come rescue them."

"But she did need you to come rescue her." Freddie offered.

"We know that but I'm just worried that maybe making her leave right now would be that one last thing that really did her in. You know?"

"No," Freddie and Sam said in unison.

"School's out in two weeks basically then you're all coming home, right?" he looked at Sam.

"Right…"

"So Carly said that if I'd let her stay just the two weeks until school's out she'll go to the on-campus therapist and …"

"A therapist?"

"Sam…let him finish."

"We already called them and she's going over there in a couple hours. The therapist is going to talk to her and help her find a doctor in Seattle that she can see once she gets home. She'll have two weeks to say bye to her friends and give them whatever reason she wants for why she won't be back in the fall. Then you can all come home together." He sighed and ran a hand through his head. "I'm not sure if it's the right decision. But she said this is what she needs this. I'm going to ask the therapist about it today, but if I'm going to let her do this I need help from you two."

"Whatever you need, Spence."

"Just keep an eye on her. It's pretty pointless for her to go to classes now but if you could just make sure she gets to her therapist appointments and try to get her out of that room if you can; get her to eat something. And if it gets worse or you can't handle it, you call me and I'll fly right down." He looked at them hopefully, "I know it's a lot to ask, but I just…"

"It's cool, Spencer. You know we'll help her." Sam said, looking at Freddie who nodded his agreement.

And they had, as best they could. Spencer went back inside with them and she and Freddie skipped an afternoon class to ride with the Shay siblings to Carly's first therapist appointment. Before he left they all had dinner together. Carly actually ate a little and for a couple of hours Sam felt hopeful that the situation would get better.

Over the next two weeks they did what they could to keep their promise to Spencer. Carly spent less and less time sleeping and less and less time in her pajamas. She ventured out with Sam and Freddie and they kept the conversation light, not discussing school or what they all knew was going to happen at the end of summer. Sam didn't get to spend much time with Freddie alone and it was hard on both of them. She'd grown accustomed to waking up in his arms at least a couple days a week, talking to him, just being with him but with all their focus on Carly and preparing for their finals there wasn't much time left. Freddie said he was okay with it and she knew that on some level he was but by the end of the second week it was wearing on both of them.

Carly, however, seemed to be getting a little better every day. She talked now; not as much as she used to but at least she was talking, smiling, initiating conversation. She and Sam had spent a weekend having girl time – she'd even let Carly play 'Dress up Barbie' with her, fixing her hair and experimenting with makeup Sam would never have allowed her to use if it hadn't been dire circumstances.

As the semester rolled to a close they were all ready to head back to Seattle. Freddie missed his mom, though he'd never say it, and Sam missed Marissa a bit herself, though she was even less likely to admit it. A whole summer of fun with no responsibility was just what she needed and eve n if she felt selfish to say it out loud, she was looking forward to having Spencer there to look after Carly and give them a little bit of a break.

That's exactly what she'd been thinking when Freddie asked her to go to dinner with him the night before they were due to leave.

"What about Carly?"

"I think she'll be okay for one night. It's just dinner. We'll be home by eleven or so and…I just," he shook his head, "I just need it to be us, just you and me…for one night." He reached out and ran a thumb across her cheek. "I miss you."

She missed him too, it was the only reason she said yes, the only thing that made her push down her guilty feelings and the voice telling her to stay home with her best girlfriend. The only thing that made her stand her ground was when Carly begged her to go to a party with her that night.

"Please, Sam?"

Carly sat cross-legged on her bed, painting her nails. It made Sam happy to see her returning to her girly, over-groomed self. One of the girls on their floor, Jenna, someone Sam wasn't particularly familiar with but who shared a few classes with Carly, had invited them to an end of the year frat party. Sam hated frat parties. The free booze was okay but spending a night watching giant Neanderthals fighting over who could get the most wasted while raising sorority princesses over their heads was not her idea of fun. But she figured that if Carly was going to a party, she'd be occupied and Sam could spend some much needed alone time with Freddie. Hopefully a naked Freddie.

"Freddie's taking me to dinner tonight." She looked at Carly, who wore her disappointment in a pout on her face. "Aw…come on, Carls, don't make that face." Carly's comical pout only intensified. "Okay, maybe when we get back I'll see if Freddie wants to stop by the party for a little while."

"Yeah right," Carly laughed. "I'm going to be out of this room until the wee hours of the morning. You think I don't know what you two would rather be doing with that time?"

Sam pushed back the thoughts Carly confirmed. At least three hours alone with Freddie in this room, in this bed. Yeah, she could think of a lot of ways that could end up. All of them were good.

"Carly, if you need me, I'll go with you." Sam said seriously.

Carly's face was blank for a minute and then filled with a sad smile. "I'm sorry, Sam."

"Sorry for what?"

"Sorry that you've had to spend the last two weeks babysitting me."

"You don't have to apologize. You'd have done the same thing for me."

"Yeah, but it wasn't you. It was me." She shook her head, "It wasn't supposed to be me. I'm supposed to have it together. I'm supposed to be the one that fixes the messes and solves the problems."

"Carly, don't…"

"No, Sam I need to say this." She set the nail polish own on her desk and turned on the bed to look across the room at Sam. They sat in identical poses, cross-legged, leaning over their knees. "I don't know what happened to me. I mean, it seems like one minute I was okay and then the next I was just falling. Falling down this dark hole. I kept thinking I could dig myself out, that it would get better but…it didn't."

"You could have talked to me."

"No, I couldn't. I didn't know how to tell you because _I_ didn't even know what was happening." She sighed and fell back against the wall. "I know I was mad at you and Freddie for calling Spencer, but I know you did it because you love me." Her face crumpled. "I don't know what I'm going to do without you next year."

Sam jumped up and rushed across the space between them, climbing up beside Carly on her bed, gathering her in a hug. "Hey, don't cry. It's going to be fine. Marissa is letting Freddie drive back down in the fall so I'll have a car and I promise I'm going to visit and me and Freddie will be home for Thanksgiving and Christmas and I'll be there for every break that I can." She leaned back, holding Carly at arm's length, meeting her tear filled eyes. "I'm not leaving you, Carly."

"Promise?" Carly said, her voice shaking.

Sam stuck out her pinky finger. "Pinkie swear."

They shook on it and spent the rest of the afternoon sitting in on Carly's bed, watching cheesy chick flicks (Carly's idea) eating a lot of trans. fat (Sam's idea) and talking about plans for the summer. When Freddie showed up at six to take her to dinner she felt much better about going. Carly was already getting ready to go out, standing in front of her closet, trying to find an outfit. Her hair was back to its glossy brown and Jenna was perched at the edge of Carly's bed chattering away about all the guys they were going to meet that night and giving yes or no's to the outfits Carly pulled out for inspection.

"Hey Carls!" Freddie said, stepping into the room. His hair was just the way she liked it, not too much product and he was wearing the shirt she'd gotten him for his birthday last year. A dark blue military-style button up. She licked her lips as she watched him sit down on the bed, talking to Carly. She blushed as Freddie caught her staring at him and smirked. He knew exactly what she was thinking.

Grabbing her purse and keys she gave Carly a sideways hug, then turned to look into her eyes.

"You sure you're okay?"

Carly just smiled as Jenna called out, "She'll be fine. She's in good hands!"

Sam headed toward the door, following Freddie outside. She stopped before she left and turned back to Carly.

"Stay Brune."

"Stay Blonde."

They were the last words she'd ever hear Carly say.

Freddie had driven them out to Marina Del Rey and they had dinner at Chart House. Sitting there with him, talking about everything and nothing as they watched the sun set on the water was like finding her way home after a year spent wandering. She hadn't realized she'd missed him this much.

After dinner they walked on the pier. She had one hand wrapped in his as the other carried her shoes. The wind blew just enough to keep the air cool and the breeze brought with it the crisp salt smell of the ocean. It was perfect, probably the best date she'd ever had. She didn't think of Carly then.

She was still not thinking of Carly when she and Freddie got back to the dorm, the need for each other so intense that they barely made through the door before clothes were discarded and they'd tripped across the room, collapsing onto her bed in tangle of limbs, surrounded by laughter and want. She certainly wasn't thinking of Carly in the middle of it all, when the room was filled with the sound of Freddie's name on her lips, her name as he whispered it roughly in her ear and finally the softness of their laughter as they sat in bed sharing a bowl of strawberries and a bottle of ice cold beer – their tastes might not have been refined, but they were content in that moment where each other's happiness was all they were responsible for.

But in the middle of the night when the pounding on her door sent her bleary-eyed in search of her robe, when she opened the door to reveal campus security and two L.A.P.D officers, when she felt Freddie's arms around her as she collapsed in a heap on the floor. Then, then she thought of Carly; and once she did she thought sure she'd never again think of anything else.

Drunk driver. Those were words she recognized. On their way home from the party a drunk driver had crossed the intersection and hit them head-on. The drunk lived of course. They always did. It had happened an hour before the police showed up at her door. While she sat eating strawberries, her best friend lay bleeding in the street alone. Her guilt began then, covering her like a stench she felt sure everyone could smell. One she would try to wash off for the next seven days. One that seemed never to leave.

Freddie took care of everything. He helped her get dressed, sat holding her hand as she stared out into space, silent tears that would not fall burning behind her eyes. He called Spencer and his mother. Helped Sam into the back of the police car as they were escorted to the hospital. He brought her coffee and water as they waited in the hallway, the antiseptic smell reminding her of where she was even as she tried to shut her eyes and forget. He never left her side, wrapping an arm around her. Pleading with the doctors to let them in to see her. They were adamant; there would be no visits right now.

They were working hard to keep Carly alive. Jenna was pronounced dead on arrival. Sam had seen her parents arrived. Watched as the doctor led them further down the hall. Listened as her mother's cries rang out in the hallway; as her father fell to the floor. She couldn't imagine how they must feel and she felt sick that part of her was grateful, so grateful that it hadn't been Carly. She was still alive. There was still a chance.

Freddie nudged her shoulder as a short Hispanic doctor in blue scrubs walked down the hall toward them. Before he reached them he hesitated for just a moment. Just long enough for Sam to register that this would not be good news. When he stepped in front of them he reached up to slide the tiny blue hat from his head.

'_I'm sorry'_

The rest of his words were a fog. The whole world was suddenly too bright, too loud. It was a forceful blast of color and heat and sound. There was screaming, screaming so loud it seemed to shake the very ground she stood on. She slumped to the floor and on her hands and knees attempted to escape it all. Unable to she curled into a ball, her hands clamped over her ears. She felt Freddie's arms around her and he rocked her soundlessly as two realities came into sharp focus.

Carly was gone; and the screaming voice was her own.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Heavy stuff. Can't promise it will get less heavy but if you hang on I think you'll like where we end up. Let me know what you thought. And if you get a chance follow the blog on Twitter (BlogFanfiction) the blog link is on the twitter feed.**


	3. While We are Absent

**A/N:**

**Welcome back. Hope you're enjoying the story. I know it's a bit darker than what I normally write but, as Sam T said in her awesome post on You Write What? 'Writing outside the box', it's always good to try something new; challenge yourself. Writing something real and raw is my challenge this time; finding humanity in the darkest pain. Sorry if it's more angsty than you like, but as ****I'M**** fond of saying 'the writer's heart wants what the writer's heart wants and mine wanted to kill someone off. Lol**

**Shout out to DwynArthur, AnnieRocket, ExpressionsofAWriter, Mels Garcia and Samantha Nicole Trewyn, aka My iCarly posse, just for their fierce awesomeness. You guys make this chizz fun and our twitter sessions make me laugh until stuff shoots out of my nose. Thanks for all the encouragement.**

**Second shout out to butterflylovesicarly, because her kind words have kept me from throwing my laptop out the window so…thanks for that! She's my biggest fan (well, my only fan…but that's just semantics, right?)**

**And please forgive me if you find typos. I had to self-edit this and I haven't slept in 27 hours so...yeah, be kind. **

**Alright, enough sappiness, here's the new chapter 'While We Are Absent'. **

**Enjoy.**

**Disclaimer: Living Carly belongs to Schneider. Dead Carly…still belongs to Schneider. I don't own much really, beyond the laptop I write this chizz on.**

**XXOO – TheWrtrInMe**

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><p><strong>Benediction<strong>

**Chapter 3 – While we are absent**

She'd had her fair share of nightmares. There were the kinds that you couldn't quite remember the next morning. Then there were the kind that were the result of pizza too late at night where you found yourself running from monsters lurking in the shadows just out of sight. But the worst were the kind that were vivid, so real that for the first few moments after waking you had to tell yourself it wasn't real. They covered you in a thin film of fear, made your heart race and sent you searching for the nearest light source hoping the brightness would dispel the lingering darkness in your mind.

Her life had become that kind of nightmare.

The day Carly died was surreal. She didn't speak, didn't eat and felt as if she were walking around in a foot of molasses – her steps difficult, each one a struggle that left her spent at the end of the night.

4:27 a.m. May 23, 2014

The date and time were etched in her brain; she couldn't forget them if she tried. Carly died three hours after they'd gotten to the hospital. Two hours before Spencer arrived, disheveled, disoriented and full of questions Sam couldn't bring herself to answer.

Neither she nor Freddie had the heart or the words to break the news to him while he was in route. They told him a version of the truth that they hoped made the trip a bit easier.

'_The doctors took her into surgery. They're doing the best they can.'_

It wasn't a lie, not at first. And by the time they knew that the doctor's best efforts had been in vain, Spencer was in the air, an hour out from LAX. They said they'd tell him the truth when he arrived. Like that would make it easier to say.

When he ran into the hospital corridor, followed by Freddie's mom, his eyes immediately landed on Sam and she forced herself not to look away.

"Where is she?" he asked.

She meant to say something. She'd even opened her mouth, but no sound came out. She stood looking at Spencer, willing herself not to cry, not to scream, not to take off running. She shook her head and finally lowered it, the pain in Spencer's eyes too much to meet. The silence in that hallway held the weight of guilt and grief, heavy enough to pull at her shoulders and send her to her knees again.

"Where is she Sam?"

She felt Freddie walk up beside her, placing an arm around her shoulder. There was love in that gesture, and protection and both of them increased the weight of heaviness already clawing at her. She wanted to shrug it off but felt sure that without him she wouldn't be able to stand.

"She's gone Spencer." Freddie's voice was a firm. He was forcing himself to speak. Forcing himself to be the strong one now.

Spencer was silent, stumbling backward. Marissa caught him before he fell to the floor and helped into one of the waiting room chairs. Freddie slid his arm off of Sam's shoulder and gathered her hand in his, heading in Spencer's direction. She followed him. She didn't want to go but right now it was just easier to let someone else make the decisions.

She heard Freddie talking to Spencer in a hushed whisper. Marissa had disappeared minutes before and was now walking back toward them with the doctor in tow.

"Mr. Shay." The doctor said, extending his hand. "I'm so very sorry for your loss. If you'd like to come with me we have a room where we can talk and I can answer any questions you might have."

They all rose and followed him, a procession of sadness. As they passed the rest of the waiting room occupants, Sam saw the look on their faces and recognized it. Relief. She'd felt the same thing not long ago. Some averted their eyes as she passed. She didn't blame them. The grief around their procession was tangible and looking at it made it too real. It felt too real for her too.

They spent an hour in the room, talking to the doctor, making arrangements, trying not to fall apart and failing. Two hours later she and Freddie were walking into a hotel room. She didn't have the heart to go back to her dorm room that night. Her and Carly's room. Marissa hadn't put up a fight about her and Freddie staying the night together. She'd gotten three rooms and handed Freddie a key.

"Take care of her" she'd heard Marissa whisper before she walked over to Sam who was sitting quietly in a lobby chair. Marissa knelt in front of her, gathering Sam's hands in her own.

"Sam, honey." She'd whispered. It was a mother's voice. The voice of someone who made chicken soup when you were sick and told you to wear a jacket when it wasn't quite cold enough for one. It was a voice tinged with love and concern and it made Sam want to collapse into her arms. "I know this is hard. And I know there isn't anything can say to make it easier, but I want you to know its okay to feel what you're feeling. It's okay to be sad and its okay to let the people who love you take care of you."

'_People who love you take care of you.'_ Sam thought, _'Why didn't I do that. Who was there to take care of Carly?'_ The thought nearly drove her mad and her hands ripped from Marissa's and covered her ears as she closed her eyes. She didn't realize she was crying again until she felt Marissa's warm hands wiping the tears away before she wrapped her arms around Sam's shaking shoulders.

"It's going to be okay." She said, her voice calm and confident.

But she was wrong, Sam thought. It wasn't okay now and she didn't think it ever would be.

* * *

><p>The world kept moving. It struck her as odd and wrong at the same time. Her world had stopped or at least slowed to snail's pace. But all around her people were doing the same things they'd always done. They were talking and laughing and acting like they didn't know one of the most amazing people in the world was gone and never coming back. Rationally she realized that most of them didn't know. Even the fans who had been sending a steady stream of messages to the account and flowers to the house, didn't really understand what they'd lost.<p>

To them Carly was the cute brunette who hosted the show they loved but they didn't know how much more than that she was. Until this moment Sam didn't realize how oblivious she'd been to the same thing. She'd always taken Carly's steady presence in her life for granted, but now her absence was like a gaping pit of nothingness in the center of her chest and it was slowly swallowing her. She didn't know how to handle that. She wasn't sure how she was supposed to act or how she was supposed to feel.

She'd spent the first three days after the funeral she'd spent sitting in Freddie's room in the dark, knees drawn to her chin, staring at the Nug Nug poster that still hung on the wall over his desk. She knew she should go check on Spencer, she hadn't seen him since the funeral.

That day she's spent hours in the Shay apartment, helping organize the food that arrived in mountainous proportions trying to avoid talking to anyone, wishing she could be somewhere else. For once she had no appetite and the apartment full of people she didn't know irritated her, then it made her angry. They sat in Carly's seat on the couch. They picked up her pictures and smiled at them, they went up to the studio like it was an attraction at Universal Studios. Worst of all they kept trying to talk to her, telling how sorry they were for her loss, how amazing Carly was, how much they'd miss her. And all while they talked a slow burn of indignation and fury began to boil in her stomach. Her knuckles were white as she held the trays of food and nodded, not trusting herself to speak.

Freddie had tried to stay by her side but by the time people started to leave he'd taken up position by the front door; saying goodbye, accepting their hugs and condolences.

Sam had had all she could take of it. She couldn't handle the crowd, couldn't bear to watch as Spencer circulated among them, tears working their way down his cheeks from time to time. She couldn't stand here listening to it all and thinking how ridiculous it all was.

She was supposed to be sitting on the sofa with Carly in her Girly Cow pajamas watching sappy chick flicks. The hardest thing they should have had to deal with right now was how to spend their lazy summer. There wasn't supposed to be crying. There wasn't supposed to be flowers choking the air with their scent. There wasn't supposed to a room full of people dressed in black talking about her best friend dying.

"Sam, I'm really sorry…"

That was it. The final straw. Sam whipped around and looked into the faces of three girls she didn't know.

"For my loss? Is that what you wanted to say?" Sam's voice rose and her hands shook on the tray of finger sandwiches she was holding. The girls recoiled, looking unsure of what to do. "What the hell do you know about my loss? Did you even know Carly?"

"We watched the show and …" one of the trio, a short red head who looked terrified but was the only on brave enough to speak, addressed her.

"You watched the show? And you think that makes you know about my loss?" she was screaming now, the whole room had gone silent and was watching the scene unfold. She saw Freddie excuse himself from a conversation across the room and walk quickly toward her. Her eyes were wild and she shrugged off Freddie's arm on her shoulder when he approached. "Did you know she slept with a stuffed elephant every night, EVERY NIGHT since she was a baby? Did you know that since she met me she's made me a homemade birthday card every year, because she said the best presents are handmade?" Her voice broke and she felt her whole body tremble. "Did you know she was my first real friend? My best friend? And she's gone now and you're SORRY! Well guess what, I am too!" She was crying in earnest now. "I'm sorry too!" This time when Freddie gathered her in his arms she didn't protest.

"Maybe you'd better go." Freddie said to the girls who made a hasty exit.

"Freddie?" She heard Marissa's voice but it was background noise to the sadness and rage filling her ears.

"I'm just gonna take her home mom, I think…I think she needs to get away from all this."

"Okay, honey. I'm going to help Spencer clean this up and then I'll be over. I'll bring some dinner for the two of you."

She felt Freddie nod and walked with him out the door, her body limp. When they got inside his apartment she felt her knees go weak and Freddie swept her up before she hit the floor, carrying her to his room and laying her on his bed. As she sobbed she felt him slide off her shoes and pull a blanket up over her, moving in to the bed behind her, wrapping his arms around her. He whispered in her ear; how much he loved her, how special she was. But he never told her it was okay, he knew that was pointless, neither of them really believed it. Eventually her sobs subsided. She was exhausted and wanted nothing more than to just not _be_- to not have to think or feel. She turned and buried her face in his chest, closed her eyes and let the darkness take her.

* * *

><p>Almost three months. Seventy six days to be exact. That's how long it had been since everything turned upside down. For the first few weeks everyone had been really nice, Marissa brought her tea and Freddie stayed by her side every second he could. Even Spencer, who by all accounts should have been on the receiving end of all this compassion, had included her like the family he'd always considered her to be. He made her breakfast on Saturdays and cracked jokes to try to make her laugh. She appreciated it, but it didn't work. But as the weeks turned into a month and then two, she saw a change.<p>

Freddie started to push her to leave the apartment and go places with him, frowning when she turned him down. Marissa stopped bringing tea to Freddie's room and encouraged her to come out into the living room and have it there. Again, she turned it down. She preferred to stay enclosed in Freddie's room and the most she did outside of that was venture to the Shay apartment and sit at the kitchen table with Spencer. It took her a full three weeks to even be able to sit on the couch.

She was trying, she really was. Or at least she thought she was. She just wasn't ready. She didn't want to mix with the rest of the world yet. She'd always been relatively antisocial to begin with. Carly was the social butterfly of their group and without her she'd found herself at a loss on how to deal with people outside the Benson and Shay apartments. But her excuses were being increasingly argued against. Even Spencer had started to get out now. He'd been on a date a few days ago, a shock to Sam. But before he left, as she stood staring at him in his fancy date attire, he'd told her

'_We've got to keep living kid. She'd want that.'_

Sam wasn't so sure. But she knew eventually someone would take the choice to agree away from her.

It all came to a head on a day at the beginning of August so hot just stepping outside was enough to melt the skin from your bones.

Sam was sitting on the sofa in the Shay apartment, a half melted carton of Rocky Road on the table in front of her. Freddie entered the apartment without knocking, jiggling keys in his hand. He walked over to stand in front of Sam, his face set like stone.

"Freddie, the last time I checked your mother wasn't a glass maker so could you kindly move? I'm trying to watch TV."

If he'd heard her snide remark his face showed no sign. His eyes never left hers.

"Get dressed." It wasn't a request.

"Excuse me?"

Freddie rolled his eyes and slid his keys into his pocket. "You heard me Sam. Get up. Get dressed. We have somewhere to go."

Sam sighed and sat up on the couch. "Freddie, I told you I'm not…"

"Ready. Yeah, I heard you when you said that in May, and in June and in July. I've heard you say it while you walk around here like a zombie. I get it Sam, you're sad. We all are. You don't think I miss her?" He sounded angry and she had no words to answer him. "Well I do, I miss her every damn day. Losing Carly was…it was the hardest thing I've ever been through but I refuse to lose you too Sam. And that's what's happening. IT's like they put you in the ground with her; you're still alive but you're not _here_! So I'm done listening to you talk about not being ready. Ready or not, get up, get dressed and let's go."  
>She sat frozen, watching his face. It was a power play, a mental game of chicken. Her will and his ran headlong at each other, waiting to see who would give first. She wasn't used to losing. Freddie generally gave in to what she wanted even if he protested loudly at first. And especially since what happened with Carly. He'd spent the summer doing whatever it took to make Sam happy. But from the look in his eyes, making her happy was not on the agenda today.<p>

"Where are we going?"

"Don't worry about that, just get dressed." He looked down at his watch as Sam stood and started toward the door. When they entered the apartment she went into his room. "You've got fifteen minutes and then I'm coming in there to get you."

After she'd gotten dressed, taking exactly twenty minutes, just to spite him, she walked back into the living room, brushing her hair as she went.

"Are you going to tell me where we're going?" She asked, "You know kidnapping is a felony." It was the closest she'd come to cracking a joke in a long time. The words felt foreign coming from her mouth but Freddie smiled wide as he looked at her.

"That's my Sam." He said, his voice soft. He grabbed her hand and headed out of the apartment.

They drove for twenty minutes. As much as part of her wished she was safely ensconced in Freddie's boring bed sheets, she had to admit it felt good to have the sun on her skin. Looking at her arm as it draped over the door she noticed how pale she was. Spending nearly over two away from the sun would do that to you she supposed. She watched the stores whip by, followed by homes in a residential neighborhood. She didn't pay much attention, the feeling of the car beneath her and the warmth of Freddie's hand as it held hers was lulling her into sleep. Just as her eyes began to flutter shut she saw a sign that jarred her awake.

_Our Lady of the Angels Memorial Cemetary._

She ripped her hand from Freddie's and sat up.

"Freddie?"

Freddie kept his eyes straight ahead, pulling slowly into the cemetery, driving around the smooth curves toward the back.

"Freddie. I'm not doing this."

He kept driving without a sound.

"Freddie Benson!" she screamed. "Did you fucking hear me? I'm not doing this!" She reached out to grab the steering wheel and Freddie deftly grabbed her small hands in one of his and lowered them to the seat. Her chin began to tremble and that only made her madder. She'd managed to go the last four days without crying. He was ruining everything. Her heart thudded in her chest and she was suddenly aware of how hot it was. She felt like she was suffocating. "Freddie, please." She whispered.

He pulled up beside a sloping green hill. Sam closed her eyes but even without looking she knew what lay at the bottom of that hill. He got out of the car, removing the keys from the ignition – he knew her too well. Walking around the back of the car he got to her door before she could hit the locks and opened it. Standing in front of her he offered his hand and when she didn't take it he grabbed hers and pulled, not hard enough to hurt her but powerfully enough to let her know getting out of the car wasn't an option. She wasn't used to this side of Freddie. But since the funeral she'd seen it more and more. Commanding Freddie. Freddie who didn't take no for an answer.

Walking down this hill in sneakers was much easier than it had been in heels, but everything else about the walk felt the same. When they arrived at the bottom of the hill Sam saw that in place of the freshly turned soil that had been there in May was a simple grey slate headstone. At the top was a carved cherub, flying as if watching over Carly. The words inscribed brought fresh tears to her eyes.

_Carlotta Elizabeth Shay_

_8/15/1995 – 5/23/2014_

_Daughter Sister Friend_

_We know you watch us now, from a place where love never ends_

There were white roses arranged on the ground beneath the headstone. That had to be Spencer. Every birthday since Sam could remember, Spencer had given Carly a dozen white roses. And even though she always knew that on the morning of her birthday there would be roses beside her plate of strawberry pancakes, she always made a big deal about it. It was their thing. Carly said birthdays should have traditions.

Birthday. It was Carly's birthday. She couldn't believe she'd forgotten. In all the remembering she'd forgotten Carly's birthday for the first time in ten years.

Freddie squeezed her hand and pulled her down to sit with him on the grass. They sat in silence as the minutes stretched on. Finally Freddie reached out and traced Carly's name with his hand, sighing.

"Hey Carls. It's Freddie and Sam." He looked over and offered Sam a weak smile that she couldn't quite return. "Happy Birthday." Sam heard his voice break just the smallest bit but he continued talking. "We can't stay long. I…I don't think I'm ready to stay long yet. I miss you Carly. We both do, Sam and I. Everything feels different with you gone."

Sam stared at him. In all her grief and in his taking care of her, she'd never really talked to him about how he felt. He seemed so strong all the time. Never crying since the funeral – at least not when or where Sam could see. He held her up and she never considered or thought to ask who was holding him.

"Spencer's doing better. I check on him every day. He actually went on a date this week. She was a loser – but it was nice to see him get back out there. I think we're all trying in our own ways to get back out there. I know that's what you'd want."

"Sam and I have to head back to school soon. It's going to be really weird not to have you there. My mom helped us get a place of our own. It'll be strange to look in the fridge and not see those health nut smoothie things you drink." He laughed, "It won't be the same without you Carly, but I promise you, we're going to be okay. I'm going to take care of Sam and, hopefully, she's going to take care of me too. We're going to go out and we're going to do something in this world that makes a difference, because I know that's what you'd want." He was crying now, not bothering to wipe the tears the fell. "I don't know what's gonna happen, and that's scary but…I know that knowing you was one of the greatest gifts I was ever given, and I'm not going to let everything I learned from you go to waste. You taught me that loving yourself is never as important as loving the people around you. You taught me that it's more important to make a difference than to be comfortable. You would have made such a mark on the world Carls and I'm so sad that you can't." He reached out for Sam's hand. "But we can, so we will. For you."

He looked over at Sam and squeezed her hand.

"Can you give me a minute?" she asked. Freddie nodded his head.

"I'll be in the car." He cast one last glance at Carly's headstone, turned and headed up the hill.

Sam sat staring at Carly's name. Carly had always hated her middle name. She said it made her sound like she was sixty with grey hair and dentures. Sam always told her it could be worse…her last name could be Puckett. They'd had that conversation a million times, but it was just as funny every time they did.

She reached out and straightened the roses.

"Happy Birthday cupcake." She said, her voice barely a whisper. "God, I'm not really sure what I'm supposed to say. I hope you can hear me. Before…this, I wasn't so sure there was a heaven, but now…now I think there has to be, even if they made it just for you." She leaned over her knees, her shoulders shaking. "I miss you so damn much, Carls. And I'm so sorry. Everyone tells me this isn't my fault and part of me understands that but I can't…I just can't help thinking that I let you down. That I spent my whole life letting you down. But you never once gave up on me did you? You always believed I'd be okay. But how am I supposed to be okay? Who's going to be my best friend now?" She lapsed into silence. "You were the best part of me, kid. I should have protected you. I should have been there, the way you always were for me. I know it's too late to ask you to forgive me but…I hope that one day I'll find a way to forgive myself."

"He's right you know, Freddie is. I'm going to be something. I'm going to do something that makes you proud. I promise. I've never broken a promise to you…I won't break this one either." She stood and stared down at the headstone.

She placed a hand to her lips and then to the tiny angel on the tombstone. "I love you kid. I'll love you forever." She started to walk away, then turned and looked over her shoulder. "Stay brun." She said, and headed back to the car.

Inside Freddie was staring down at his hands. When she opened the door he looked into her face but said nothing. She offered him a weak smile and put on her seatbelt. They drove in silence back to Bushwell Plaza and the silence stayed with them the rest of the night. Freddie's mom had gotten them boxes and instructed them to get everything packed. They were supposed to move into their new apartment in just over three weeks. The idea of living with Freddie, even though she'd been living with him all summer, felt strange. Like a very grown up step. She'd felt comfortable with it when they'd first discussed it in May, but now, with all that had happened it seemed wrong somehow.

Over the next few days she started to make an effort. She had dinner out with Spencer, Freddie and Marissa. She went with Freddie to the movies. She laughed at his jokes and tried to make some of her own. She put on a face that made everyone feel better – told them they didn't have to worry about her, told them she was okay. But she wasn't.

Since the conversation at Carly's grave she'd been thinking of how to keep her promise. How to live a life that made a difference. The best example she had of being a good person was Carly; sweet, unselfish Carly. Carly had always put her family and friends first. When Sam and Freddie had been dating for a year or so she and Carly had a girls night and Carly told her that when they'd first started dating she'd been jealous. Sam had told her that was ridiculous; by almost any standard Carly had a charmed life. She was smart and had a family that loved her. But, Carly had said, she'd never really had a boy care about her the way Freddie cared about Sam.

'_I've never had a love like that'_ she'd said.

It had been a shock, knowing that there was anything about her life that Carly envied. And now Carly was gone and she'd never have anyone love her like that. Sam wanted to be like Carly, unselfish and willing to sacrifice for her friends. She didn't have many things going for her, or at least she didn't feel like she did. Her mother was even crazier than Freddie's. She wasn't close to her sister at all, when she'd told Melanie about Carly Mel hadn't even offered to come to the funeral. She'd lost contact with most of her other family. The only things she really had were school and Freddie. Both of those things meant everything to her. She wasn't really sure what to do with that fact but she knew it was important.

Four days after her visit to Carly's grave she was in the old iCarly studio, packing away props from the show, helping Spencer clear it out. She was packing the last box, clearing out the prop closet when she saw it. It was simple, Spencer or Freddie would probably have thrown it away, but when she saw it, it made everything come into focus.

It was a small, glossy pamphlet. Sam remembered the day Carly had shown it to her. On the cover was a small brick building. In front of the building a group of smiling girls stood together in identical uniforms. Carly had been so excited. It was a school that had been built by a non-profit organization called GirlForce. They went into impoverished regions all over the world, places where girls weren't generally offered the opportunity to get an education and built schools, teaching them and offering meals and health care for free. Carly donated twenty dollars every month, it was something she was really proud of. At the time Sam had laughed, not because it wasn't a noble cause but because Carly was determined to save the world on twenty dollars a month.

"_Twenty dollars won't change anything." She'd said_

_Carly pointed to a girl on the cover. "It changes something for her."_

Sam smiled at the memory and turned the pamphlet over.

'You can make a difference. Start today' it said

Going to help these kids an entire world away wouldn't bring Carly back; she knew that. So she tried to shrug it off, the feeling that she'd stumbled upon the answer to everything. Closing the box, she tucked the pamphlet into her pocket and left the studio. If nothing else she could at least keep up Carly's monthly donation. That wasn't much of a sacrifice.

She spent the rest of the week trying to tuck the nagging thought into the back of her mind. She went with Marissa to buy dishes and towels, trying to pay attention as they talked about leases and move dates. But it didn't go away. If anything the voice got louder. Every time she sat surrounded by the people who loved her. Every time Freddie reached out in the middle of the night and held her. Every time she walked into Carly's apartment and thought about everything in life Carly would miss. Everything she'd never had, that Sam now had in spades.

What kind of sacrifice was she willing to make?

Without being really conscious of it a plan began to form. A plan that gave her a knot in her stomach when she thought of all the people it would affect, but a plan that, nonetheless, made her feel alive for the first time in months. She could sacrifice. She could do something that required giving up her comfort. She could do what Carly would never have the chance to.

There was a part of her that knew how irrational it all sounded, so she didn't tell anyone. She knew they'd try to talk her out of it, especially Freddie. She knew he'd never be okay with her taking a path that didn't involve him. He'd never be okay with a plan that meant they couldn't or wouldn't be together.

But she ignored them, all the voices that told her it might be a mistake. She ignored them as she pulled the pamphlet from her purse and as she called the number on the back. She ignored them when she called USC and put the wheels in motion to take a leave of absence. She ignored them when she filled out the application, had her interview and made her flight arrangements once they gave her the all clear.

But the night before she had to leave, three days before she was supposed to be moving into an apartment off campus with Freddie, she couldn't ignore them anymore. Little by little she'd been taking clothes and toiletries to her mothers, packing there where there'd be no questions. The night before she was to leave she asked Freddie to go to dinner with her. He was so excited for her to be making plans for them again, so happy to have her back, he said. It broke her heart to think of how this would make him feel.

Sitting at dinner she told herself that she'd break the news to him before their meal arrived. But the meal arrived and she still hadn't said anything. Dessert came and went, they paid the check and went for a walk downtown and still she couldn't bring herself to say what she knew she needed to. She'd practiced all day. She was going to tell him how she'd found the pamphlet, how she needed to do something for someone besides herself, how she wanted to do it in honor of Carly. She was going to tell him that it was temporary, that she'd be back and they'd pick up where they left off. That was the part where she got stuck every time.

Losing Carly had changed her, in a way that no one seemed to notice. She didn't feel the same…about anything. She loved school but the idea of going back seemed impossible. She loved Freddie, more than she'd ever loved any man, but being with him now; it felt unfair, like winning the lottery when all around you people were starving and homeless. Being with Freddie made her happy; maybe too happy. She didn't feel like she'd earned the right to be that happy. But maybe, if she worked hard enough, she could. One day. But she had no idea when that day would be…or if it would be. And she had no idea how to tell him that.

When they arrived back at the apartment it was dark. Marissa worked the overnight shift all that week so she could take a few days off to go with them and help them settle into their new apartment. The apartment Sam wouldn't be living in. They walking into Freddie's bedroom – really their bedroom now and immediately his hands were everywhere.

There were few things in the world that felt as good as his hands on her body. Over time he'd learned her. She was an instrument and he was a virtuoso. He knew how to touch her, where and when. He knew how to bring her to a point of pleasure that made her head spin. And no matter how many times he made love to her, he knew how to make it feel like the very first time.

That night was no different. He made love to her; with an urgency that made her wonder if he'd discovered her secret. It was frenzied and intense; as if this might be the last time he'd ever touch her and when it was over she lay in his arms, tears rolling down her cheeks and pooling on his chest.

"Princess? What's wrong, why are you crying? Did I hurt you?"

"No," she said, trying to stop the tears that refused to stop flowing. "I'm not hurt"

"Then what is it?"  
>"I just…I love you. So much." She looked up at him, suddenly desperate for him to understand. "Do you know that?"<p>

"Of course Sam, I love you too. But you're scaring me? What's all this about?"

She tried to tell him then. She really did. But looking into his eyes, the deep brown that had come to symbolize love for her, she felt her heart break at the thought she might never look into those eyes again – or that when she did, they might not hold the same love they did now. And that thought drove her to him, pushed her lips to his and their bodies together for the second time that night.

This time she took the lead. She loved him in every way she knew how to. She kissed his face, touched every inch of him and whispered her love for him into his ear until the words ran together. Afterwards they lay together, spent; Freddie on his back his arms spread out, his mouth slightly opened as the room filled with his soft snores.

She looked at him then. Burning his features into her mind, etching the feeling of being in his arms into her heart. Looking at the clock she saw that she had six hours to get to the airport. Her flight left at nine a.m.

As softly as she could she rose from the bed, got dressed and sat quietly at Freddie's desk. She pulled out a notebook, and wrote what she hoped was a letter that would help him understand, even if it didn't help him forgive her.

Thirty minutes later, she placed the letter in a sealed envelope and left it propped on his laptop – the first thing he looked in the morning most days. Walking over to the bed she resisted the urge to kiss him. If she kissed him he'd wake up and if he did – if he woke up and asked her to stay she'd never be strong enough to say no. Grabbing her bag she walked toward the door and allowed herself one final glance at him.

"I love you." She said, closing the door behind her.

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><p>Freddie woke and stretched, smiling as the memory of last night flooded his senses. Twice in one night. It wasn't exactly a record for them but last night had been so much more intense than any other time. After weeks of feeling like Sam was a million miles away he finally felt like he'd been able to touch her. Not just her body, but something inside her that he'd been afraid had been buried right along with Carly.<p>

He looked over and saw Sam's side of the bed empty. He looked at the clock. It was ten in the morning. He hadn't slept this late in a long time, and he knew it was late if Sam had beaten him waking up. She was probably in the kitchen, waiting for him to make breakfast – she wasn't much of a cook. He laughed and swung his legs over the side of the bed, hurrying to get out of the room before he hungry girlfriend came in demanding sustenance.

Walking out of the room something caught his eye. Propped against his laptop was an envelope. Written in familiar scrawl across the front was his name. He smiled and stopped to pick it up. This was the Sam he'd missed, the one who left him random notes around the house. Usually she wrote them on post it notes. Telling him she loved him, pointing out the things about him she found extra nubbish. His favorite had been when she'd put a post it on the toothpaste and told him only a nub would be that anal about which end you emptied it from.

Holding the envelope in hand he stopped. It was heavy and before opening it he had the feeling that this was no ordinary note. He sat softly at his desk and opened the envelope, the smile that had filled his face falling as he read.

_Dear Freddie,_

_I love you. I feel like that's the first thing I should say. Because no matter what the rest of this letter says I need you to know that. I love you more than I could ever tell you with words, and even though I'm sure my actions are going to make you doubt that, or not believe it at all. It's still true. No one will ever love you the way I do._

_I have to leave. I'm sure you're not going to understand it or accept it. I can see you now, in your pajama pants, your face is frowned up and I can see that dimple in your right cheek. You're probably already trying to figure out where I'm going, how to talk me out of it or how to find me. I have to ask you to please not do any of those things. I have to do this. I know you won't agree but I'm asking you to trust me. I know what I'm doing, or at least I think I do._

_I'm going to be gone for a while. I can't tell you where. I trust you but I also know you. If I tell you where I am you'll just come try to find me and I can't take that risk. I'm not doing this just for me. I'm doing it for Carly. I'm going to make her proud, to do something that would have made her happy and I'm hoping that I'll find penance in that – or at least peace._

_I'll be back. I don't know when but I know that being away from you forever isn't an option. But I don't want you to put your life on hold for me. You are one of the most amazing people I've ever known Freddie and the world deserves to have you in it – doing all the things you do to make life wonderful for the people around you. Please don't close yourself off because of this. Don't stop your life from moving, don't stop yourself from growing, from living and if it comes to that, from loving someone who isn't me._

_I wish I could tell you to wait, to hold your heart still and in safe keeping until I can come back and be worthy of it, but that would be selfish and I could never ask that of you. I told you that no one will ever love you the way I do, but maybe someone can love you better._

_The last two years with you have been the best of my life. Your love and Carly's memory are the only things that give me strength enough to do this. And my love for you is the only thing that gives me strength enough to let you go._

_Please know that what I'm doing isn't meant to hurt you – it's meant to help me find myself. And I can only hope that when that happens, they'll still be room in your heart to let me in._

_Tell Marissa I'm sorry. Tell Spencer I love him._

_Take care of them for me. Take care of you for me._

_Love,_

_Samantha_

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><p><strong>AN 2:**

**Well folks…there it was. Hope you liked it. I know it was a bit angsty…okay, a lot angsty. Let me know what you thought…drop me a review.**

**Also, Samantha Nicole Trewyn and I have started a blog called 'You Write What?' we love it and hope you will too. If you'd like to check it out hop on over to twitter and follow us (BlogFanfiction) and you can find the blog site feed on our profile.**


	4. One From the Other  Sam's Story

**A/N:**

**Welcome, welcome, welcome! Thank you so much to all of you for the reviews, alerts and favorites. Most of you are alternately loving me and hating me for all the nail biting angst of the previous chapters. I promise it will pay off…eventually and I probably won't be making you cry again anytime soon (but don't hold me to it). **

**This chapter is mostly filler, lots of exposition as we get a chance to see what our favorite couple's life is like apart. This chapter is Sam's story. Next chapter we'll check in on Freddie.**

**Hope y'all enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Send me a review and let me know what y9ou thought. **

**Here we are again… Benediction Ch. 4: One From the Other – Sam's Story.**

**Disclaimer: Don't own it. Never have. Never will.**

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><p><strong>August 2020 – Goa, India<strong>

She shielded her eyes as she jumped down from the jeep. It had rained all morning and the humidity hanging in the air made her wish, for the millionth time since arriving, that she were able to part with her long blonde locks. But every time she considered it, there was loud protesting from the little girls who had become her family.

"Miss Sam!" She turned just in time to steady herself before a tiny girl with russet skin and twin black braids launched herself into Sam's knees.

"Hey!" Sam smiled down at her. Her name was Aasha and even though Sam wasn't supposed to have favorites, Aasha made it hard not to. She had come to them after being sold into a brothel by her family. She was six now – they'd rescued her at four. The thought of what the small girl had been through made Sam's stomach turn. Unfortunately, it wasn't an isolated case. GirlForce existed because these atrocities were happening to Indian girls at a sickening rate.

When Aasha arrived, she wouldn't speak to anyone. She wouldn't eat or interact. Sam had been the first person to get her to talk. It was well known that when it came to the hardest cases, Sam had a way of drawing them out. Slowly over the span of several months Aasha had come to trust her and now she was like Sam's shadow. Sam had no children of her own but she imagined that if she ever did they'd be like Aasha – strong, and resilient.

"I made you a picture!" Aasha held up a large piece of white paper. On the front she'd drawn a picture of the GirlForce school and in front of it was her seven-year old rendering of Sam, all blond hair and blue eyes, holding the hand of a small girl with twin black braids.

"It's gorgeous!" she said, leaning down to hug Aasha, "You, have got talent!" Aasha laughed as Sam tickled her before standing and looking at her watch. "Now, you'd better get to class. Mr. Rajesh will get me if I make you late." She smiled and watched Aasha run toward the school building, before turning and heading toward her office in the Administration Building.

Her office wasn't much, it was small and cluttered, and the walls were covered with handmade pictures from the girls currently with them and photographs of girls who had left the program. On her desk there was a gift wrapped box. She smiled and opened it to find a small bracelet with red and blue beads, the GirlForce logo emblazoned on a silver charm hanging from it.

_Can't believe you're still here crazy girl…but glad you are. Love, Rajesh._

She smiled, it was a present to celebrate another anniversary of her time with GirlForce. Rajesh was shocked she was still here – but not as shocked as Sam herself.

She'd been working with GirlForce in Goa, India for six years now. GirlForce was an American based charity organization that worked to rescue young Indian girls from sex trafficking and reunite them with their families if it was a safe environment, providing them a home, education and health care when it wasn't. The work they did was difficult and sometimes dangerous, but she was certain she'd never done anything more rewarding.

In the beginning, the culture shock had almost been enough to send her back to Seattle with her tail between her legs. The meals were largely vegetarian, the heat was intense and while GirlForce was an American organization, the children were most comfortable speaking Konkani and many of the staff had been there long enough to speak to them in their native language. There were whole days where she barely understand one word anyone spoke to her. But she was Sam Puckett, even this far away from everything she'd ever known. And she rarely failed when she put her mind so something.

So she adjusted. She started out doing manual labor. It was hard work, carrying supplies and cleaning up behind the twenty girls who lived in the home, as well as the fifteen staff members it took to keep everything running smoothly. But she'd preferred it, working under the baking sun, drenched to her core in the monsoon season. It gave her time with her thoughts and allowed her to seek the penance she'd come half a world away to receive. She worked hard, pushing herself hours beyond what was required, punishing her body – however subconsciously.

She didn't take part in the evenings of games or dancing like the other volunteers. She never took part in the late night gab sessions. She kept to herself and did the job she'd committed to doing. And after the initial welcoming and encouragement to join in, people learned to leave her alone.

It suited her just fine, being alone. She hadn't come here to make friends.

_"So what did you come here for?"_

_The director of GirlForce cornered her in the stock room about a year after her arrival and surprised her with the question. If it had been another man, she might have felt a bit threatened. The stock room was dark and small, barely enough room for her. But Pranash or Nash as they all called him had never given her any reason to be afraid of him. If anything, since she'd arrived he'd been nothing but helpful, giving her help when needed and space without her having to ask. He was tall, the tallest man on their team, and with his broad shoulders and intimidatingly deep voice, he was well suited to the sometimes dangerous work they did. Rescuing girls as young as four from brothels, and even private imprisonment where they were used as sex slaves, was not easy work and often the girls' captors put up a fight._

_But as he stood in the entryway to the stock room, smiling down at a winded and sweaty Sam, there was no intimidation in his voice._

_"Excuse me?" she said, setting down the large bag of flour she'd slung over her shoulder._

_"I said, what did you come here for?" his English was halting but clear enough for her to understand._

_"You asked me that in my intake interview."_

_"Yes, I know that – I was there." He kept his face straight but the twinkle in his eyes let her know that she was amusing him. She wasn't in the mood to be someone's entertainment, but Nash was, effectively, her boss, so she couldn't exactly tell him to stick his smile where the sun didn't shine._

_"So I already told you. I want to make a difference."_

_He smiled down at her, reached out and put a hand on her shoulder. She flinched. Since arriving in India she'd gotten used to not being touched. It felt foreign. She looked up at Nash and saw her level of discomfort register on his face. He pulled his hand back, the smile wavering on his face as he studied her._

_"Come with me," he said, turning to head out the door._

_"But I've got work."_

_"Samantha, everyone else quit working two hours ago. I think we'll be okay." He looked into her eyes and what she saw there wasn't humor – it was sympathy. "Now come with me, please."_

_Sam sighed, turned off the light to the storeroom, and followed Nash. The GirlForce base of operations had been small then. A large storeroom, one small stone building divided into men's and women's quarters, where the volunteers lived, and another building that served as the administrative offices, all set inside an electrified fence and arranged in a circle around the building that held the girls' dorm, the school, and the health office._

_She followed him into the administration building and through the door to his small, messy office. He cleared a stack of papers off one of the chairs and gestured for her to sit down._

_"Am I in some kind of trouble?" she asked._

_He walked around the desk and took a seat, propping his feet up on his desk. "You say that like you're used to being in trouble."_

_"Well…let's say I'm not stranger to it." She said, then realized the implications of her statement. "But nothing serious, I mean I didn't lie on my application or anything and things are different now. I mean…"_

_"Sam…calm down. You're not in trouble."_

_"So why do you want to talk to me."_

_Nash removed his feet from his desk, clasped his hands together, and leaned over the desk, studying Sam's face._

_"Sam, you've been here over a year now. You've done everything we've asked you to do and I can honestly say I've never had anyone come in and throw themselves into the less glamorous parts of this job with so much…energy."_

_"Is that bad?"_

_"No, it's not. Quite the contrary. I appreciate your work ethic."_

_Sam snorted._

_"That is funny?" he asked._

_"No, it's just that if Carl…" she stopped herself. She hadn't said Carly's name out loud in all the time she'd been here._

_"Carl? Is that a boyfriend back home?"_

_Sam lowered her head and fought the urge to cry. She wasn't weak, she didn't want to look weak. She shook her head._

_"Not Carl. Carly. She was a friend of mine."_

_"Was?"_

_"Yeah. She, uh, she passed away last May."_

_"Oh, I'm terribly sorry for…"_

_"For my loss. Yeah, I know." She sniffled and tried to steady her nerves. "Listen Nash, I'm not trying to be rude of anything but I didn't come here for therapy or to talk about…Carly."_

_"So I ask you again…what are you here for?"_

_She was getting angry. What did it matter? She did her job, she didn't cause any problems. Why couldn't he just leave her alone like everyone else?_

_"I'm making you angry." He said, a statement with no judgment._

_"No…yeah. I don't know. I just don't want to talk about it. Why I'm here I mean."_

_"You know," he said, leaning back in his chair, "My father gave me a piece of advice when I was a child that I use to this day. He said to me 'Wherever you are, be there.' Do you know what that means?" She sat silently, head down, "It means that it's impossible to occupy truly more than one place with your whole heart, mind and body. You've got to choose where you want to be, and once that choice is made you have to commit to it._

_"Sam, as I said, I appreciate how hard you work, but what we do here is difficult and dangerous. We don't do it without some emotional investment, without a purpose. It requires investing all of ourselves…hearts included. I've been watching you since you arrived. You haven't gotten to know the other volunteers, you stay to yourself, you work until you're ready to drop."_

_"Isn't that commitment?"_

_"Normally I'd say yes, but in your case it feels less like you're running to something you believe in and more like you're running from something."_

_Sam sighed and looked across the desk at Nash. He reminded her of Principal Franklin from Ridgeway-the first authority figure she'd ever trusted. She wasn't much for exposing herself or her feelings, but she got the feeling that remaining silent was just going to make this meeting even longer. And the weight she'd been carrying for the last year suddenly felt too heavy to carry alone._

_So she'd told him everything. As they sat in his office, the sounds of the night carrying on the breeze into his office, she'd laid it all out. She told him about Carly and why she'd made the decision. She told him what she'd left at home and what she hoped to find here. She told him about Freddie and where their relationship had likely been headed. She told him things she'd never admitted to herself out loud – how afraid she was that she'd made the wrong decision. How hard it was to feel like she'd never get over what happened. How hard it was to let it all go._

_While she talked he stayed silent, letting her talk. He never once judged her or told her she'd made a wrong decision. He handed her tissue and waited for the sobs to subside when the memories became too much for her to verbalize. And when she was done she looked across the desk at him, her soul feeling free for the first time since she'd arrived._

_"So that's it" she said, "the whole ugly story."_

_"Not an ugly story Sam. Unfortunate for sure, and very sad, but not ugly," he said, handing her another tissue, "and not over. You can't truly move forward until you face what's behind you. You've done that. Now you get to decide where your story goes from here."_

_"I don't want to leave." Sam said, "I made a promise…to Carly."_

_"And I don't want you to leave Sam. Your contribution is important and appreciated. But I want you to be here for you. It's a beautiful thing that your love for you friend and her memory brought you to us. It is a wonderful tribute. But whatever your reason for coming to us, staying with us has to be for you. Don't pursue penance – it's not needed. Pursue peace instead." He smiled at her. "Now, why don't you go get some sleep…we've got a busy day tomorrow."_

_She nodded and thanked him, standing to leave the office._

_"And Sam?"_

_"Yeah?" she said, turning at the doorway._

_"I'm here if you ever need to talk."_

_"Got it." She smiled._

_That night as she walked toward the dorm she looked up at the sky, clear and cloudless, and allowed herself to feel how much she missed her friend._

_"Hey cupcake," she said, "I miss you. But I think…I think I'm gonna be okay."_

That was six years ago, and in that time GirlForce had grown – and so had she. The site on the coast of the Arabian Sea was home now. If anyone from her 'old life,' as she called it, could see her, they'd barely recognize who she was now. She'd come to Goa in search of forgiveness and peace, and that's exactly what she'd found. It still stung to think about Carly, but now she could think of her friend and feel the happiness that had filled their friendship. It had taken a long time and quite a few late night chats with Nash, who was more like a father to her now, but eventually she'd come to accept that there was nothing she could do about what happened to Carly. All the charity work in the world wouldn't bring her back. All she could do was live the very best life she was capable of in tribute to the friend who had changed her life.

Gone were her days of slinging flour sacks in the storeroom. She'd managed to finish her degree online and was now the Assistant Director of Operations, a job she took seriously. She was in charge of making sure things went smoothly onsite, working with local authorities who assisted them in rescuing girls and prosecuting the traffickers. As the site grew she also worked with planning and development – determining how to make sure they had the room and funds to accommodate the girls who seemed to show up daily. It was in that position that she'd finally gotten the opportunity to pay tribute to her friend.

On the desk in front of her lay the plans for a new, state of the art facility. It would house classrooms and a family-style cafeteria for students and volunteers and finally give the girls access to quality computers and equipment that would prepare them for the world outside their site. She had spearheaded the effort to have it built and every time she looked at the blueprints she felt a surge of pride. As part of the facility, there would be a section used especially for assisting the girls who came through their doors in dealing with the emotional and physical scars their previous lives had left. There would be a dorm for them to stay as the transitioned them into living with the rest of the girls on site. They'd have therapists onsite and a doctor that made rounds regularly so they didn't have to take the girls into town for visits. Nash had given her the honor of naming it. If all went according to plan 'Carly's House' would go from a dream on paper to reality in the next twelve months.

"Knock, knock."

Sam looked up and smiled at the imposing figure of her boss, Nash, as it filled the doorway.

"You know you don't have to knock," she said, gesturing toward the chair across from her desk.

"Habit. Blame boarding school." His booming laugh filled the room.

"So what do I owe this visit to?" she asked. "I thought once you became a big wig we'd see less of you."

Nash had been promoted to Overseas Operations Director for GirlForce six months before, a position that required him to do a lot of travelling to raise funds and promote awareness of their cause and their organization in India and abroad. Sam was thankful it was his job and not hers-a lot of his travel required him to go to the United States.

"It's nice to see you too Sam, I'm doing well, thanks for asking." He teased.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah…you know I'm not one for small talk, Nash. You're standing here so I figure you must be okay." She laughed, "But how are you? How's Noor?"

"She's great, ready to have the baby any day now." His face beamed. He and Noor had met at GirlForce and married two years ago. They were now expecting their first child. Sam was happy for him, but while they used to commiserate over their shared singleness, he was now intent on making sure Sam followed him down the aisle.

"How's Rajesh?" he asked.

Sam rolled her eyes. "I'm sure he's fine. He's over at the school. Why don't you go ask him how he is?" she narrowed her eyes at Nash. "And stop trying to fix us up. You're only encouraging him!"

Rajesh was her closest friend, the first person to ignore completely her desire to be left alone. They'd become friends by sheer force of will on his part, but now she couldn't imagine life without him. Rajesh, however, had a not so quiet crush on her. He was determined, he said, to make her his American wife. The whole idea was ludicrous to her. She loved Rajesh, but in a completely platonic way. Sure, he was attractive, tall and broad shouldered with a head full of wavy jet black hair. Every new female volunteer that came to work with them had a crush on him at some point. But while most of her had healed since she'd arrived in India, that part of her heart would always belong to the man she refused to allow herself to think about.

"You're breaking that man's heart, you know?" Nash said, drawing her from her thoughts of what she'd left behind in Seattle.

"Who?"

"Rajesh…who did you think I was talking about?"

"Oh…um, no one."

"Hmm…the ex-boyfriend who shall not be named." In all their talks Freddie was the one thing they rarely talked about. She'd gotten rip-roaring drunk one night and shared the story with Nash, but since then she'd declared the subject off limits.

"Not talking about it, Nash," she warned, "Now are you gonna tell me what you want? I have a slave driver for a boss so I'd better get to work."

"Slave driver, huh?" he shrugged, "I've been called worse I guess. Anyway – I've got good news and bad news. Which do you want first?"

"Bad, of course."

"Okay, good news it is." He laughed, "The doctor says that Noor will probably deliver on time."

"That's good. For you. So what's the bad news?"

"More good news first."

"Great. My lucky day." She groaned, leaning back in her chair as she studied him suspiciously.

"I got word from GirlForce stateside that they've green lighted a fundraising tour to help us get the new building fully financed. They've already got five sites ready for visits."

Her eyes lit up. "Nash! That's amazing! With you talking to all the big wigs with their fat wallets we'll have the building up in no time!" She wanted to come across the desk and kiss him, then she realized that she still hadn't heard the bad news. "Wait a minute…what's the bad news?"

"You're doing the tour."

Her mouth dropped open. "No!"

"Sam, wait…"

"No Nash! Why would you want me to do that? I'm not good with people. I don't know how to schmooze! I am the absolute worst choice for this! And I've got so much to do here!"

"Sam, you are not the worst choice – that would be Raj."

She couldn't argue with that. Rajesh taught at the school but outside the classroom he did not possess the ability to be serious. It was one of the things she loved about him. He didn't know how _not_ to have fun.

"Seriously Nash, I don't think I can do this."

"Listen Sam, I understand what you're saying. No one who knows you would say you're exactly a people person."

"Thanks."

"Just stating facts. But there is no one in this organization more committed to these girls or to making life better than you. This project is your baby – you know more about what we need and how badly we need it than anyone. In that respect, you are the perfect choice."

She sighed and lowered her head to her folded arms on her desk. She couldn't argue him on that point. She loved these girls and making a better life for them meant everything to her. She raised her head and looked across the desk at Nash's smiling face.

"What do I have to do?"

"See, I knew you'd see things my way."

"Did I have a choice?"

"No. I hear your boss is a slave driver." He winked, setting a folder down in front of her. "That's your itinerary. It's three weeks, five cities and then home. Easy."

"What cities?" the tiniest flicker of discomfort crossed Nash's face. "Oh, you know, just some of the bigger cities."

"Where, Nash?"

"New York, Washington, Los Angeles, Chicago, and… Seattle."

"Nash!"

"Sam, I'm sorry! I don't make the itinerary and there's a large push for sex trafficking awareness in Seattle. They're just as invested as we are in this issue." He leaned across the desk. "Sam, this trip could be huge for us, and I don't have to tell you how badly we need the funds." Sam sighed and returned her head to her folded arms.

Going to Seattle. The idea sent her stomach crawling into her throat. In her six years in India, she'd only returned to the States, once and it was an experience she'd spent the last five years trying to forget.

_September 2015_

_She was jet lagged. The trip back hadn't been easier than her trip to India a year ago. She sighed and hefted her duffel bag from the carousel and headed for the rental car area. For the hundredth time since leaving Goa, she wondered to herself what she was doing and why._

_The question was still swimming in her head as she picked up her rental and headed for the hotel. She'd been gone for a year, but the streets of Seattle were just as familiar as they had always been. Returning meant coming home, but along with all the wonderful memories was the grief, still present if not as overwhelming. As she approached downtown Seattle every place she looked contained memories. _

_She could see herself and Carly laughing as they crossed the street to enter the Galleria, see them running through the rain to the movie theatre. And she saw him too. Though she tried to block him out, his presence was persistent, hovering at the edges of every memory. She wondered what he was doing. USC would be on a break now so he was probably at home. She'd chosen to come now for that very reason. In her heart she knew, any closure she hoped to gain with this trip had to involve him._

_After her conversation with Nash, she'd hoped that all talk of Seattle and why she was here was over. She'd been wrong. Eventually Nash had convinced her that to fully commit herself to the task at hand she needed to make sure that she wasn't running from anything, that her heart was clear. She hadn't agreed with him on it being necessary but Nash wasn't the sort of man people generally argued with. So she'd come back. She was going to be here for a week, and hopefully during that time she'd be able to put some of her demons to rest. _

_After checking into the hotel she'd slept thirteen hours straight and woken feeling groggy and just as confused as she was when she'd boarded the plane. She didn't have a game plan, any idea of what exactly she was going to do or how. She'd gotten into the car and just started driving. She went to the familiar places, even though it hurt. She'd gone to the Groovy Smoothie and was disappointed to see that T-Bo had already left for the day. She'd gone to the Ridgeway, even though it was Saturday and she knew there'd be no one there. She checked in on her mom, who acted as if she hadn't been gone for a year – complaining that Sam rang the doorbell too loud and demanding that Sam take her out for lunch. It was an uncomfortable exchange, but her relationship with her mother had never exactly been easy. After she dropped her mother back at home, turning down her offer for Sam to come in, she'd continued driving – going everywhere but the three places she needed to. _

_Finally as the sun started to go down she knew it was time. If she put it off any longer she'd drive herself mad. So she'd turned the car around and headed back to the one place she hadn't realized she'd dreaded seeing until seeing it was imminent. Pulling up to the curb across the street from Bushwell Plaza, she'd parked and sat with the lights off for thirty minutes, trying to work up the nerve to get out. _

_Just as she opened the door to her car, the door to the building's lobby had swung open and one of the most beautiful women she'd ever seen had walked out, her mouth open, laughter carrying in the Seattle night. She had auburn hair that hung loose down her back. She was one of those women who didn't have to wear make-up or special clothes or 3 inch heels – any man in a ten mile radius would be interested even if she stepped out in a burlap sack. _

'Exactly Spencer's type_' she'd thought and wondered if she was indeed one of Spencer's latest conquests. The thought made her laugh but the smile on her face faded immediately as the woman's companion came out of the building behind her. All spiky brown hair and gorgeous smile – it was a smile she thought he only gave to her and her heart shattered at the sight._

_She shut the door and shrunk low enough in her seat for them not to see her, although she doubted they'd notice her anyway. They seemed content in a world that was just their own. The woman smiled and placed her hand softly on his arm and he wrapped himself around her, placing a light kiss on her neck. _

_Her whole world stood still then, as she sat in her car – suddenly sweating though it wasn't hot. Her thoughts were echoes in her head, all of them too sad or destructive to pay attention to for long, at least not if she wanted to stay sane. _

'He moved on. You told him to – you gave him permission to give his heart away.'

_That's what her mind told her, but her heart screamed that he wasn't supposed to listen. He was supposed to wait for her. He was supposed to wait. But he hadn't. The proof of that was right in front of her. _

_Freddie and the woman left the front of the building, arms around each other's waists. Once she could no longer see them in her rearview mirror she'd started the car and pulled away. She had no clear memory of driving back to the hotel. No idea how she'd gotten into the room. But the next morning, she woke in the grips of an emotional hangover, still in her clothes from the night before. Her chest was heavy, like the wind had been knocked out of her. In a way she supposed it had. _

_It took a full five hours before she could start to think rationally. She'd come here for a reason. There was no guarantee what she would find and she had no right to ask for one. She'd left – with nothing but a note. No explanation, without giving anyone time to adjust. And for that reason alone she knew that she had no right to the anger that pulsed in her veins, no right to hate him – even if hating him felt like it would make it all easier to handle._

'Wherever you are…be there'

_That's what Nash had said. He was right. She couldn't be two places at once, not really. But seeing Freddie made the decision easier. Being in Seattle wasn't really an option anymore – she'd been replaced and she knew herself well enough to know that being in the same city as him – even if only when he came to town to visit, wasn't possible. She wanted him to be happy but she wasn't strong enough to sit by and watch that happiness unfold._

_Drying her face of the tears she'd been crying since she'd seen him, she reached for her phone and called Nash. She'd told him she'd be back in a week, he'd told her to take all the time she needed. If he was surprised to receive her call and discover she'd be back five days early, he never showed it. He'd only asked her one question._

"_Are you ready?"_

"_I am." She said, trying to disguise the sadness in her voice._

"_You want to talk about it?" he asked._

"_No."_

"_Okay then, come back home."_

_She'd changed her ticket, and though she couldn't bear the idea of approaching Bushwell Plaza again, she'd called Spencer and asked him to meet her for dinner. Before they talked she'd laid down some ground rules. No talking about why she left, no talking about Freddie, and no telling Freddie she'd been there. _

_Spencer protested but the look on Sam's face told him she meant business. So he'd dropped it, hoping at some point she'd changed her mind. They talked about her job in India, about the art he was working on. They'd laughed about old times and for a few minutes it felt like home. After dinner they'd gone to the cemetery, sitting in the quiet together as they laid fresh flowers on Carly's grave. When the night was over, she felt better, lighter somehow. She hugged Spencer, promised to keep in touch as much as she could, and made him restate his promise to keep their meeting a secret._

_She'd boarded a plane the next morning. She spent most of the trip disoriented, trying to wrap her brain around what had happened and what it meant for the rest of her life. During her layover in London she'd raided the mini bar and spent the night crying, allowing herself, for the first time in a year, to feel all the pain, grief and guilt she'd locked away. It was hard and at times it hurt so much she thought sure it would kill her. But by the time she landed in Goa she was functional. It hurt, but she'd survive it. She was broken, but she knew she'd heal…eventually. Stepping out of the plane, she promised herself that she'd start over, really start over this time. Because this time, she wasn't running from something. She was running to something. She was going home._

That's what GirlForce had been to her since then, home. She'd not set foot in the States since that day, hadn't imagined that she'd have to. And as confident as she was that the choice she made was the right one, she didn't feel ready to. But Nash was right, they needed this – her girls needed this.

She looked down at the blueprints on her desk, dragging a finger across the section that would be 'Carly's House' before looking back at Nash.

"When do I leave?"


	5. One From the Other  Freddie's Story

**A/N:**

**Welcome back! I am so sorry for the late update, but this chapter needed to be handled in just the right way so it took a while to get it the way I wanted. **

**God bless my beta – he worked his heiney off on this one (524 edits/corrections according to MS Word – yikes!).**

**I'd also like to give some special shout outs to the best reviewers around: Lackadaisical Pajamas, LizzieLove Inc, IrishFan62, butterflylovesicarly, Glitter on the Dance Floor, Linds911 and MoviePal. Y'all are always so supportive and I appreciate it.**

**And, as always, special love to the iCarly posse – you know who you are. Lol**

**XXOO-TheWrtrInMe**

**Disclaimer: Just found out that having one of these every chapter isn't required. I am doing a happy dance.**

* * *

><p><em>The drab grey concrete and steel railings of the stairwell zig zagged above him, a life size erector set covered in inky darkness. Ten more flights.<em>

_He ran, his lungs burning, his legs protesting more loudly with every step. He wanted to stop. He felt as if, at any minute, his body would give out. He was exhausted, but his need to follow her, to catch her, was all-consuming so he continued after her._

_She picked up her pace and he begged his uncooperative body to move faster. He knew she'd heard him beg for a rest, for a moment to catch his breath, but she never said a word. She never slowed down. _

_She was two flights from the top floor now and she seemed to have absorbed the energy he had used. She took the stairs two at a time, her hair wild, cheeks flushed. _

"_Sam!"_

_She reached a small landing at the top of the stairs and hesitated for a fraction of a minute – her hand on the door. _

_He took off after her, ignoring his muscles as they screamed their dissent, hoping her temporary pause would allow him to catch up. She stood still by the door, seemingly unaware of his pursuit._

"_Sam!" She grasped the door handle firmly and pulled. Light, nearly white in its brilliance, reflected off the steel and chrome, the dank space suddenly filled with glaring light. She slipped through the door and it slammed behind her, the stairwell again dark as night._

_He reached the landing and opened the door, shutting his eyes in preparation for the brightness he knew awaited him on the other side. Stepping out of the door, his breath caught. He stood on loose stone covering a wide flat rooftop that stretched out to an unguarded ledge overlooking a seemingly endless sea. In contrast to the clear blue of the sky, the water beneath it rose and fell in menacing waves each one an open-mouthed monster, anxious for its next meal._

_At the edge of the building, Sam and Carly stood together unmoving, inanimate as department store mannequins. Their stillness was made more disturbing by the frenzied movement of the water below. Brown locks mixed with blonde as the wind whipped their hair out behind them. Their hands were intertwined. _

_He walked slowly toward them, his body refusing to obey his mind's instruction to run after them and pull them to safety._

"_Sam! Carly!" He screamed their names over and over but still they didn't move or show any reaction to the desperation in his voice. "Get away from there! It's not safe!"_

_They turned to look at each other. Their lips didn't move, but he had the distinct impression that something was being said. _

_Carly shook her head, taking a small step toward closer to the edge. _

"_Carly! Stop!" He screamed until the words were like sandpaper in his throat._

_He'd almost reached them, if he stretched out his arms far enough he might be able to touch them. _

_In one swift movement he saw Sam release Carly's hand._

"_Wait!" He was almost there. If he could just move faster he might be able to…_

_Carly turned to him, her back to the water, wearing the same smile on her face that she'd had the last time he'd seen her alive. She gave a small wave and took a step back into the emptiness._

_Then she was gone._

"_NO!" He rushed to the edge, his legs suddenly obedient. "Carly!" his voice was drowned out by the waves below, their rise and fall like the gnashing of teeth. _

_He couldn't see her. In every direction was just the darkness of the water – its spray and foam licking at the edge of the building._

"_Why did you let her…" he turned to Sam, anger boiling in his gut. He turned to Sam but her image was suddenly a refraction of light, a mirage fading before his eyes. He ran to her and reached out._

"_Don't! Don't go!" He screamed into the space where she'd been standing, not a minute before, dropping to his knees. The rooftop was abruptly washed in darkness as heavy clouds drifted over the sun and the skies wept for him. For them all._

_She was gone._

_He was alone._

Freddie jolted awake, uncomfortably disoriented as his eyes adjusted to reality. He was in his office but for a moment he could still smell salt water in the air. Still feel the wind rushing over him and the terror of watching his best friend fall into nothingness and his first love disappear before his eyes.

He shook his head and ran a hand over his brow. It had been six years. In that amount of time, he felt like he should be over it, or at least past the point of having nightmares. It was easier to handle now, for sure, but the pain of losing Sam and Carly – essentially at the same time – it hadn't gone away. They were like a phantom limb. Once an intricate part of his life, he knew they were gone but there were times, even after all this time that their absence was so pronounced it caused an ache in the space where they should be.

It was easier with Carly. Death, in some ways, was the ultimate closure. He knew she wasn't coming back and other than the recurring nightmare, most of his thoughts of her were happy ones. Carly had no choice in leaving. It wasn't the same with Sam. Sam had left of her own free will. She'd disappeared leaving nothing but a letter and his broken heart in her wake.

He spent the first six months in denial.

'_She just needs time'_ he thought, _'she'll be back'._

Christmas came and went; winter gave way to spring and it became obvious that she was really gone – and she wasn't coming back. He'd surrendered his denial then, to an anger stronger than any he'd ever felt and spent the next six months firmly in its grip. He'd destroyed almost everything she'd left and he met any mention of her by his mom or Spencer with angry words tinged with the venom only a broken heart can produce. Eventually they stopped talking about her. The pictures his mom had of her, of the two of them, disappeared – he never asked where they'd gone. In hindsight he was glad he didn't know where was. He wasn't sure what he'd have done if he'd been able to get to her.

His anger eventually began to recede like the ocean tide leaving him with remnants of unresolved feelings and pain-tainted memories like broken shells at the perimeter of his life. He was exhausted, tired of hating her, tired of missing her. He'd known Sam almost all of his life, and loved her for half of that. Being with her had been part of his identity and without her, or the anger that shored up the pieces she'd left behind, he wasn't sure who he was. Like waking up and not recognizing his own face in the mirror. He'd had to adjust. He was no longer Carly's friend Freddie or Sam's boyfriend Freddie. He was just Fredward Benson, in a new world where the two women he'd loved most no longer existed.

That's when the nightmares had started. They generally happened in the darkest parts of the night – when he was safely in his own home. Only one person had ever witnessed them. But today when he'd arrived at his office a newspaper article was setting at the center of his desk. It called him a hero and discussed his beginnings as a teenage producer for a popular web show. He'd closed his eyes, intending to block out the memories and instead, found himself on the familiar rooftop where dream mirrored reality.

"Knock, knock?"

Freddie jerked his head toward his office door, glad for the reprieve from his thoughts.

"Liz," he said, smiling and waving her in. "What's up?"

Liz had been with him for three years and he was certain that if she ever left, the entire department would fall apart. She was bright, efficient, and had a way of telling you to jump off a bridge that was so diplomatic it left you thanking her for the suggestion. Her official title was Administrative Assistant, but he called her The General. She kept him – and everyone else-in line.

"You saw the article?" she said, taking a seat across from him as she pointed at the folded newspaper on his desk.

"Yeah, I, uh, saw it."

"That's all you have to say? It's an amazing article – they practically gave you the key to the city!"

He laughed, looking down at photo of his face staring up at him from page six of _The Seattle Times_. He'd been so uncomfortable during the interview, but the higher ups had insisted that the exposure would be good for business and Liz had threatened his life if he refused. He was more afraid of her than the higher ups.

"I'm framing it," she said, standing and walking over to what she called 'The Wall of Fame,' "and putting it right here." She laughed as he narrowed his eyes, shaking his head.

'The Wall' had started a week after Liz started supporting him. Finally unpacking boxes that had been sitting in the corner of his office for a year, she'd stumbled across what she called 'proof he deserved his cushy corner office'. That day she'd begun hanging things on his office wall and the tradition had stuck. Now every time something she deemed important happened – it went on the wall. He thought it was pretentious, but Liz said it would remind clients how well he knew his stuff.

In the center of the wall were his degrees from USC – a Bachelor's degree in Engineering next to a Master's degree in Software Development and Creative Technologies. Surrounding those was something of a roadmap to his career over the last six years. First was the article from _Cyber Future_ discussing the software he was developing for XCelon Software and how it might be the next big thing in security technology. He'd been shocked to have his pet project 'Guardian' covered in a magazine. He was lucky to get a job at XCelon fresh out of USC – on the recommendation of a former professor. As part of the mentoring program, he'd shared his idea for software that would assist law enforcement in locating missing and trafficked children. He hadn't thought it would ever go further than that – an idea. But his mentor had pitched it to the powers that be and with only six months of tenure at the company he'd been given the green light to take a shot at making his dream real and functioning.

He'd worked himself to the brink of complete exhaustion, surviving on extra strong coffee and very little sleep. But it had paid off and six months after he'd started he had a beta edition of Guardian ready to show the President of CrimeScope Solutions, Stephan Borde. Stephan hadn't said much during the meeting, while Freddie sweated through his dress shirt and tried to keep his knees from knocking as he walked all present through the purpose and structure of the software. After the meeting Stephen had shook his hand and left the room. Freddie was sure that was the last he'd hear of it and prayed he still had a job. The next day he'd been called to the Executive Office and given an unprecedented offer. XCelon would provide him with a team of developers, analysts and programmers. They had a year to work out all the bugs and get it running. If he managed to pull it off CrimeScope Solutions would be partnering with them to the tune of several million dollars. He was ecstatic, until he realized that making the beta version ready for a roll out in one year was virtually impossible.

But he'd done it. The walls were covered with proof of just how successfully he'd done it.

Him shaking hands with the Chiefs of Police for Seattle, Yakima, and Tacoma the day before Guardian rolled out in each of their departments, linking their special task forces on missing and exploited children in a way that no one had ever attempted.

He'd created the software, hoping only to help support the tireless efforts of law enforcement in finding the missing, but in the six years since then child sex trafficking had become a serious issue and something of which Seattle charity groups were especially dedicated to raising awareness. Guardian was helping them to make great strides in the war on sex trafficking, and for that Freddie was proud.

The last picture on the wall was of him on the cover of Technology Today, looking solemnly out from the glossy pages in black and white, his hands folded under his chin as bright red letters listed him among the 'TechJocks changing the World'. He'd laughed when he saw it. TechJock – that was one Sam hadn't even used.

Sam. He'd be lying if he said her disappearance wasn't part of his initial passion for the project. He knew she was okay, Spencer wouldn't tell him where she was, but he assured him that he had heard from her and she was safe. But before he'd known that, he'd gone to bed every night wondering. Was she alive? Was she hurt? Had any harm come to her? Once he knew she was okay, he was obsessed with making sure that no one ever had to feel that same icy fear he'd felt.

Now, if Liz had her way, there'd be a new addition to 'The Wall.'

"Liz, seriously…do you have to put everything up there?"

"Are we really going to have this argument again?" she said, hands on her hips, "You know I'll win and you don't have time to fight me on it anyway." She looked at her watch. "It's almost twelve o'clock. You've got to be out of here in ten minutes."

"Shit!" he said, standing quickly. His little trip down memory lane had cost him valuable time. Now he was probably going to be late – and that would be trouble for sure. He grabbed his bag and threw his laptop inside. Looking around his desk frantically he tried to think about what he needed. "Liz, can you…"

"Already called her and told her you'd be a few minutes late. I picked up your tux on my way in this morning; it's in your car along with your tickets. I confirmed your two o'clock Monday with Mr. Borde and I emailed you a copy of the status report for the 2.0 rollout." She stood back in front of him looking exceptionally pleased with herself. Liz was good at her job…and she knew it.

"Yeah…that. Thanks!" he laughed, throwing his bag over his shoulder.

"It's what I do." She said, turning to exit the room, "Now you better get a move on."

He locked his desk drawer, grabbed his phone and headed for the door. At the last minute he turned, grabbed the article from his desk and tossed it in his bag.

"Have fun!" Liz said as he walked past her desk.

"See you Monday," he said, "Call if you need me."

"I won't" she said as he stepped onto the elevator, her laughter cut off as the doors shut.

When he got the parking garage he threw his bag onto the floor in the back seat. Laying across the seat was his tuxedo, fresh from the cleaners on top of those, the invitation for the Seattle Philanthropic Societies Gala to be held tonight. Freddie hated this kind of event, everyone in uncomfortable clothes making poor excuses for small talk while they drank too much. Normally he passed on attending; there was always someone in the office happy to spend the evening with free drinks and local celebrities. But this time he couldn't get out of it. He was part of a handful of people being recognized for their contributions to the war on sex trafficking. Liz had assured him that he wouldn't have to speak. The main speech presentation that evening would be given by the Indian director of an organization that worked directly in the rescue and recovery of children who were victims of sex trafficking.

He wasn't familiar with the organization or with who was speaking. Despite Liz' nagging, he hadn't had a chance to review any of the material the society had sent him. _'What's to know'_ he thought, _'Show up, look nice, talk to random strangers, smile for the cameras, go home.'_ He was already looking forward to the 'going home' part of the evening.

He pulled into the garage of his condo, cursing as he realized that the Seattle traffic had made him late. When he arrived at his door, he saw that he wasn't the only one unhappy about the traffic.

"You're late."

Standing in front of him, looking every bit as beautiful as she had when he met her was Mira. Her long auburn hair was pulled back into a bun that only drew attention to her expressive green eyes. She was breathtaking, even while pretending to be angry. She wore a black pencil skirt with a cream silk blouse – ever the professional. She adjusted her weight on the heels she wore – heels that made her just tall enough to make Freddie feel short.

"Aren't you a ray of sunshine?" He laughed, unlocking the door and moving to the side.

"Standing in a hallway in three inch heels holding 40 pounds of dead weight while your creepy neighbor peeks out the door doesn't make me feel sunshiny." She said, entering the house, her arms full.

"Why didn't you just use your key and wait inside? And it's nice to see you too by the way."

"No time for being nice." She threw over her shoulder. "I've got a meeting that I'm going to be late for. Do you want me to put him in his room?" she asked.

As she spoke the small boy in her arms stirred and sat up, rubbing sleepily at his eyes.

"Hi, Daddy."

Freddie walked forward and took the boy from Mira's arms. No matter how tired he was, this was the best part of any day.

"Hey buddy!" he said, as his son relaxed into his arms, resting his head on Freddie's shoulder. "You wanna go lay down?"

He shook his head, yawning. "I'm not even tired."

Mira and Freddie both laughed. To their four year old son, sleep was the enemy. He fought it as if it was his job and generally only gave in when he had no strength left to fight.

Freddie lowered him to the ground and laughed as AJ, who swore he wasn't sleepy, closed his eyes and leaned against Freddie's legs, his thumb planted firmly in his mouth. Freddie stifled his own yawn and looked over at Mira, noting the concern in her eyes.

"A.J.," she said, "why don't you go put your bag in your room and let mommy and daddy talk for a minute."

A.J. nodded and accepted the superhero back pack his mother handed him, heading for the stairs.

Freddie watched him leaving the room and then turned back to Mira, who was now studying him with her hand on her hip.

"Uh, oh," he said, "I know that face."

"Sorry, it's the only face I've got."

"You know what I mean, that's your _'I'm going to give Freddie a lecture_' face."

"Well, someone needs to. You look like you haven't slept in days Freddie."

"I sleep."

"Bullshit."

"Well isn't that nice language," he laughed. "Seriously Mira, stop worrying about me. I'm fine." He ran a hand through his hair. "And it's not your job to worry about me anymore."

Mira's face softened. "It will always be my job to worry about you, Freddie." She reached across the space between them to put a hand on his shoulder. "You can't keep doing this to yourself. You're working too hard. You're not sleeping…"

"Work's been busy. The new software is almost ready to come out and there are bugs that have to be worked out. The company needs me."

"Fat lot of good you'll be to them if you're dead!"

"You're being dramatic."

"Yeah, well, what else is new?" She laughed, "but I'm serious, Freddie. You've got to take better care of yourself. A.J. needs you."

"You sound like my mother."

Mira rolled her eyes. "Please never say anything that heinous to me again." She looked down at her watch, "Shit, now I'm late." She looked over at Freddie, "Are you sure you're okay to take him this afternoon?"

"Mira, its fine. I've been looking forward to this all week. We're gonna grab lunch, then I've got a guest lecture at SCC at three, so A.J's gonna hang with Spencer. Then I've got that thing tonight."

"The Gala?"

"Yeah" he said, "Sure you don't want to go?"

"I've never wanted anything less. A benefit of no longer being the girlfriend of a hot shot software genius is never having to go to another of your boring schmoozefests."

"I figured you'd say that," he said, walking into the kitchen to grab a bottle of water, "but, unfortunately, I can't get out of it. Liz says it'll be three hours tops. Spencer's gonna stay here with him until I get home. Tomorrow we're spending the day with my mom, then we're building a fort, staying up too late and eating junk food that you don't approve of."

Mira frowned at him, "Great…get him all sugared up then send him home to me. You're so thoughtful."

"I try," he said, "Now get out of here. How will it look if the department head is late?"

"I'm the department head…they'll wait," she said as she turned toward the stairs. "Andrew Jared! I'm leaving!"

A.J. came tearing down the stairs towards her. Whatever he'd been doing while they were talking had put him in regular A.J. mode – moving a mile a minute and talking just as fast. He ran over to his mother, wrapping his arms around her legs.

"Bye mommy."

"Kisses?"

"Mom…" he protested, "I'm too old for kisses!"

Mira reached down and wrapped him in a hug. "You're never too old to kiss your mom."

"You're right Mira, you sound nothing like my mother." Freddie laughed.

"Oh shut it, you." Kissing A.J., she rushed toward the door.

"Call me if you need me," she said, sweeping out the door and slamming it behind her.

Freddie and A.J. both stood looking at the door. Dramatic exits were something of a specialty for Mira. She was like a force of nature – hot tempered, fiercely intelligent, and more comfortable in her skin than anyone he'd ever known. Just being in the same room as Mira made you somehow feel like you were a part of something special. She reminded him of Sam; though he' d never told her that-he didn't think he needed to. It was one of the reasons he'd thought they'd work, and likely the reason that they hadn't.

Freddie turned from the door and smiled at A.J. Looking at his son was like looking into a mirror where all the best of him had been shrunk down to miniature size. Same hair, same eyes, same dimple in the right cheek. Their similarities were something that even random strangers had remarked on. Freddie told Mira it was her punishment – having to live with him even if she didn't live with him.

"You hungry?" he asked.

"Yes, Daddy. Can we get pancakes?"

"For lunch?" A.J. nodded his head, "Well, I can't see why not."

"Can I get the smiley face on 'em with chocolate chips?"

"Do you want your mother to kill me?"

A.J. laughed, "I won't tell her daddy." He said solemnly , "Even if she beggded me."

"Begged me."

"That's what I said."

Freddie shook his head and sent AJ upstairs to get his backpack and try to brush down his unruly hair. Another trait directly from his father.

Mira was right, he was exhausted. That had been one of the main issues when they were together – Mira liked to be right, and it only made it worse (for him) that usually she was.

As if on cue his cell phone started to vibrate.

_Mira: A.J. has paints in his backpack_

_Freddie: Thanks for the warning. He's probably upstairs redecorating the walls._

_Mira: I would say sorry…but it's your house not mine so, I'm sorta not. He's a mini tornado_

_Freddie: Wonder who he gets that from_

_Mira: Very funny. Gotta go…meetings starting. Take care of you._

He smiled at the last text before setting his phone down. She'd been saying that to him since the day he'd met her.

_June 2015 – University of South California_

"_Hold the elevator!"_

_Freddie couldn't see where the command was coming from, but he hit the hold button and waited. A moment later, a large box being held by someone whose face he couldn't see materialized and entered the elevator. _

"_Thanks for that," the headless box holder said._

"_Uh, sure…no problem." He didn't usually speak much to the people in his building. He'd been there almost a year and other than the trumpet player across the hall, who he'd had to speak to a few times, he didn't know the names of any of his neighbors and he liked it that way. They left him alone, he left them alone, and everyone was happy._

"_You live here?"_

_The box was talking again and even though he didn't want to notice he saw that in addition to a disembodied voice, the box was in possession of a great set of legs._

'_Stop it Freddie!' The voice in his head chastised him. He was in full blown, 'country song-sad, my woman left me what am I gonna do' mode. He wasn't ready to entertain the prospect of a new woman in his life. But as the box was lowered and he got a look at the face it was hiding the voice went temporarily silent._

"_I said, do you live here?" _

_She was gorgeous. The second most gorgeous woman he'd ever seen in person._

"_Um, yeah." He stuttered._

_Her face broke into a wide teasing smile and she blew a stray auburn lock from her face. "You sure about that?" she laughed._

"_What? Oh, yeah…I'm sure. I, uh, I live on the 11__th__ floor." He stared at her and tried not to look like he was staring at her. "So, are you moving in?"_

"_Nope." She said, "I just carry around giant boxes for exercise." For half a second he didn't recognize the sarcasm and tried to think of a way to respond to that. Then her face was filled again with that beautiful smile and he found himself smiling back. _

_By the time they reached her floor, the 11__th__, same as his, she'd roped him into helping her with the rest of her boxes, and by that evening they were sitting in her apartment, drinking cold beer while she asked him questions about USC._

_Her name was Mira Wilson. She was a marketing major because her parents told her that they wouldn't pay for a degree in art. She was originally from New York, had transferred to USC after two years at community college, and came from a family with 'more kids than should be legal.' Her accent made everything she said interesting and he sat quietly as she told him story after story of her family back home. _

"_You miss them?" he asked. As an only child, he couldn't imagine having a family that big, or how hard it would be to leave them behind._

_She studied his face, "Yeah, I do. But I think I just made a friend so…maybe it won't be so bad."_

_The way she looked at him caused something to shift inside of him, just the smallest bit. And that shift made him remember why he'd avoided situations like these. Why he turned down regular dates, and blind dates, and any situation where his motives might be misunderstood. He wasn't ready. _

"_I guess I better get going. Got a class tomorrow." He said, standing and placing his beer bottle on the counter's edge._

"_A class? But it's summer." _

"_Yeah, I'm trying to graduate early so I'm taking summer classes."_

"_Overacheiver," she teased, "thanks for your help. I'll have to make it up to you…do you like sushi?" _

_He opened his mouth to turn down her request but as she stood she knocked his beer bottle the ground, sending shards of glass over the tile. She'd been walking toward him and he flinched as he watched her plant her foot firmly in the shattered glass._

_Without thinking, he walked toward her, helping her to sit back down, trying to move most of the glass out of the way with his shoe. Once she was settled, a paper towel wrapped around her heel, where the glass was still stuck, he headed to his own apartment and came back with the industrial size first aid kit his mother still insisted he keep._

_Her eyes went wide as he carried it in and set it beside her._

"_You got a hospital in there?"_

_He reached out for her foot and placed it in his lap, "Yeah, something like that. My mother is a bit of…well, let's just say she's safety conscious."_

"_Safety conscious?" She bit her lip and he could tell there was much more she wanted to say but as he used the tweezers to get the glass out of her heel the pain re-focused her attention. "Shit! That hurts!"_

"_Well, glass in the foot doesn't usually tickle."_

_She sat up and leaned over to see his handiwork, her breath tickling his ear. "Oh…Mr. Serious cracks a joke!" she laughed. "It wasn't very funny, but…we'll work on it."_

_He looked up into her face and they held each other's gaze for the span of a minute. A very tense minute._

"_Well," he said, lowering her foot to the ground and closing the first aid kit. "I think you'll live. Do you want me to help you clean this up?" he said, gesturing toward the glass._

"_No, don't worry about it. You've already been moving man and ER doc…I can't ask you to be my cleaning lady too." She stood gingerly, putting limited pressure on the foot he'd just bandaged. "Let me walk you out."_

_He grabbed his first aid kit and headed toward the door, Mira hobbling along behind him. At the door, he turned and was suddenly unsure of what to do. The last relationship he was in was with someone he'd known since childhood. Knowing what to do sort of came with the territory._

_Mira reached around him and opened the door, leaning against its frame. Walking backwards he ran into the doorjamb and silently cursed his awkwardness as she laughed. He liked her laugh._

"_Be careful," she said, as he rubbed the side of his head. "Take care of you."_

Those were the words that did it. Or started it at least. As he left her apartment and headed down the hall to his own, those words rang in his ears.

'Take care of you.'

How long had it been, he wondered, since he'd done that? After losing Carly and then Sam, he'd gone onto autopilot, his body going through the motions of living in the present while his mind tried to forget the past. He stopped caring. He went to school, he took his tests, he cleaned his apartment and went grocery shopping and still called his mom and Spencer once a week, but something inside of him just gave up.

As crazy as it sounded, and as much as he tried to fight it, that something woke up the day Mira Wilson walked into his elevator.

Letting Mira into his life had been both the easiest and most difficult thing he'd ever done. Mira was the sort of woman who didn't feel the need to be shy or quiet about what she wanted. Once she decided that she wanted Freddie in her life, she made sure he knew. She invited him to dinner and when she got tired of him saying no she showed up at his door, dinner in hand. She asked him out – to movies, outdoor concerts, and when his attempts at avoiding it got on her nerves she caught him in front of their building, grabbed his hand and took him forcefully to get ice cream. She persisted and eventually he found that the time he spent with her felt better than the time he wasn't with her. Without his permission, or even with a conscious decision on his part, Mira became a fixture in his life. They had dinner together most nights, they studied together, they did their grocery shopping together. It wasn't love exactly, at least at first, but it was comfortable. Mira was independent; she didn't demand too much from him. She knew there were issues from his past – a friend who'd died too young and a girl he'd loved but wouldn't discuss, but she never forced him to talk. She seemed happy to have him with her, and in her opinion, full disclosure was overrated.

They stayed that way, in an easy friendship through the summer and into the fall. He didn't tell his mother about her at first but when he went home to visit and she overheard him talking to Mira on the phone, the cat was out of the bag. His mother, being who she was, asked a lot of questions. What kind of girl was Mira? Were they serious? Did he love her? Freddie didn't think much of it. He and Mira were friends. He was very fond of her, even loved her in his way, but the idea of giving his heart to someone else wasn't something he was ready to consider. Thankfully Mira seemed okay with his passive approach to whatever it was they were. She asked questions about his life before meeting her, and accepted his answers. If she suspected that he was withholding information, she kept the suspicion to herself. He took her to Seattle and introduced her to Spencer and his mother. Spencer loved her, his mother, not so much. During the visit to Spencer's loft, she'd seen pictures of Carly and listened with sad eyes as he told her the story-well, part of the story. She'd seen what was left of the iCarly studio and pictures of Sam, but when she inquired as to who Sam was to him, he'd felt his jaw go tense and given her the simplest answer he could.

_She was a friend, then she was my girlfriend, then she left._

Mira was a woman, so he knew she didn't buy his answer – or at least knew there was far more to the story than he was sharing. But she didn't push. He loved her for that. They returned to California and to their easy way of being with each other. He'd kissed her, held her in the dark on his sofa or hers, felt the familiar stirring of want when she was close to him, but they hadn't had sex. He didn't take it further, too afraid of what that step might bring, how it might change them.

But as the months wore on, it became apparent that Mira wanted something else, something more-if not emotionally then physically for sure. In typical Mira fashion, she didn't use cloak and dagger tactics to make her intentions known –she laid it out on the line. Sitting on his sofa one night in September, a few weeks after the visit to Seattle, she reached for the remote, turned off the television and sat Indian style beside him staring into his face.

"_You know there are men who would give their left nut to be sitting here with me."_

_Freddie laughed. He couldn't deny the truth of what she was saying. _

"_Where are you going with this Mira?"_

"_You like me?"_

"_Of course I do, you know that."_

"_You're attracted to me?"_

"_Who wouldn't be?"  
><em>

_"So what gives?" She threw her hands in the air. "You're important to me Freddie, and I think you feel the same way about me – even if you're too chicken shit to say it. We've been joined at the hip for months. You kiss me and hold me but…that's all and I just don't get it."_

"_Mira, you know I just got out of a relationship."_

"_No you didn't. You were forced out of a relationship over a year ago by a girl who took off for God knows where. It wasn't last week Freddie and I'm not trying to be insensitive but from the looks of it, she's not coming back." She reached out and took his hand. "I'm not asking you to marry me. I'm not asking for us to run off into the sunset. All I'm saying is that I'm here, with you, right now. And I'm willing to accept you with all your baggage and all those walls you have up. Because as insane as it is to do so, I love you."_

_He couldn't blame Mira for her cut and dried take on his relationship with Sam. He'd avoided talking about her and when forced to, he had to admit that he hadn't exactly painted her in a good light. Mira, by her own admission, was convinced that Sam was a three-headed man-eater who didn't deserve Freddie to be as in love with her as he was. It wasn't fair, he knew that, but explaining required discussing it – all of it, and that just wasn't something he was willing to do, with himself or Mira._

"_Mira," he said, running a hand through his hair, "You just…you don't understand."_

"_So make me understand it then!"_

_He looked down at his hands. Somewhere in his mind, in that place where denial lives, he'd told himself he could avoid this moment. It was irrational-that fact was staring him in the face. He'd have to make her see, somehow, but the words were too hard. Even in her absence, even with vestiges of hatred still shading his love for her, his relationship with Sam was sacred. Talking to Mira about it was like showing a rare icon to an unbeliever._

_But he loved Mira, he thought, and at the very least he didn't want to lose her presence in his life, a presence that now seemed to be in jeopardy if he didn't give her the truth._

_He sat still, trying to determine how to approach it. The story of him and Sam could be told in so many ways – and in so many voices. He could tell her from Carly's perspective: two friends in a trio who suddenly decided they were in love and changed everything. He could tell it from his mother's perspective: obedient son falls in love with well-known delinquent and they end up convincing his mother, and the world, that they belong together. He could tell her his own version: Boy meets girl, boy falls in love with girl, girl takes a blowtorch to his heart and skips town – or something like that. _

_In the end he decided to let them all tell her the story._

_He looked at Mira, her face filled questions he knew he'd have to answer, walked over to his desk and pulled out a flash drive – dusty from lack of use. Walking back to the sofa he plugged the drive into his lap top and took a deep breath._

_For the next two hours he showed her clips – bits from iCarly, in the beginning when Sam's acknowledgement of his existence was mostly relegated to threats and insults. Then later clips, where the unacknowledged attraction between them was obvious on screen, despite their attempts to hide it. And then there were more; all three of them sitting in bean bags talking about nothing and everything, from their graduation – him with his arms around Sam, her with her lips to his cheek, from their time at USC –him uncomfortable in front of the camera as Sam asked him what he planned to do with his life post-grad. The last clip was of Sam sitting on a picnic table. She'd lost a bet – he couldn't remember what about now, but she'd had to let him record her telling him he was the king. She did it, laughing the whole time. _

'_Yeah, yeah, you're the king. That's why I love you.'_

_He'd replayed that clip a hundred times in the days immediately following her departure. It was his way of reminding himself that whatever she'd done – she loved him. He'd stopped watching when he could no longer believe his own words._

_When the last clip finished, Sam's voice echoing in his head, he'd looked over at Mira._

"_So…that's it."_

_She reached out and grabbed his hand. "She just left?"_

_He knew he should explain, tell her that the result of that moment wasn't an accurate picture of their time together, but he couldn't. His ego, still bruised, welcomed the opportunity for someone to hate her – to give him reason to do it to._

_He nodded his head._

"_Did you ever try to find her?"_

"_She doesn't want to be found." Truth. "And I don't want to find her." Lie._

_Mira took a deep breath, running her thumb over his hand as she intertwined their fingers. "Freddie, I can't pretend to understand what you're going through. Just from the bits and pieces you've told me that girl really did a number on you. All I'm asking is that we try. That you let me help you." She said these last words as she leaned forward and placed a hand tentatively at the back of his neck. _

_That was the hard part. He cared about Mira, she'd been a life saver the last few months. With her around, there were whole days when he didn't think about Sam but regardless of how often he thought of her – she was still there, a ghost haunting his heart. He didn't want to be unfair to Mira, and getting involved with her when Sam still lingered at the edges of his life seemed unfair. But sitting there, staring into the emerald eyes of this woman – this amazing, strong, beautiful woman who just wanted to love him. It felt too good to turn down._

_And so he'd reached out, cupped her face in his hands and his heart almost broke at the relief he saw there. The last time he'd had a real first kiss he'd been just a kid. To experience it as an adult was different. The feel of her skin beneath his hand, the rush of heat as he picked her up and took her to his bed. It wasn't Sam, and it might never feel like it did with Sam but it didn't matter, he convinced himself. He could make this work. He could make it all work._

And it did work; for a long time it did. Before making it official they'd spent most of their time together so in that respect not much changed. Mira eased herself seamlessly into the pattern of his life. He found himself enjoying being a part of an 'us' again; being able to introduce people to his 'girlfriend'. He went with her to meet her large, loud, Irish Catholic family and it felt good to be included, to have her mother pat his hand and tell Mira what a catch she'd found. To have her father toss him a beer as they watched a game on TV.

She never got any closer to his mom but they tolerated each other. She grew close to Spencer, even helped him with marketing and promotion of his work. She visited Carly's grave with him when they went to Seattle and the subject of Sam and his path with her, thankfully, faded into the background. She never mentioned it again and neither did he.

It was a different kind of love, quiet and comforting, and the longer he was with her the more he thought he might actually have a chance at mending what was left of his shattered heart.

Then on a cold night in December, as he sat watching the news, Mira walked out of the bathroom and changed both their lives forever. She'd come to stand in front of him, hands behind her back. When he'd asked her what was wrong she'd said nothing but from behind her back she pulled a white plastic stick. He didn't know what it was at first but as she held it out for him to see his heart stopped. The front of the stick had a small screen on which was blinking the word _'Pregnant'_.

The whole world stopped then. He's sat quietly staring at the stick, not knowing what to say. Looking into her eyes he saw fear, and confusion. Mira knew that what they had was potentially temporary. It wasn't something they discussed but they both knew it. Babies weren't a part of the deal. Mira had told him on more than one occasion that she wasn't even sure she wanted to have kids.

Once he'd regained his composure and his ability to speak, he'd grabbed her hands, sat her down beside him and told her – with more confidence than he actually felt, that it was all going to be okay. He was going to be there for her, they were going to handle this together, and he was going to love the baby, and her. Whatever thoughts he had about Sam, whatever small hope he held in the back of his mind that one day he might be with her again, he'd try to bury it. He loved Mira, maybe not in the way he'd loved Sam, but none of that mattered now. They were having a baby. He was going to be a father and even if he'd grown up without one, he knew that the only way to do it was to commit, really commit to making this child's life the best that he could. And that did not include abandoning its mother.

The next seven months were a blur. They'd told their parents. Hers had been disappointed at the fact that they weren't married. His mother had cried and hugged them both but he could see shades of sadness in her eyes. Away from Mira she'd asked him if he was sure this was what he wanted. He'd assured her that it was, that he was ready to move forward and he was going to do it with Mira. Reluctantly she gave her blessing and as their son's birth approached she was seemed just as excited as he was. If she had any lingering reservations, she kept them to herself and for that he was grateful.

Andrew Jared Benson was born at four in the morning on July 31, 2016. Mira did the whole thing with no drugs, cursing up a storm. He'd never been so proud of her. And when the nurse placed his son in his arms for the first time the intensity of the moment took his breath away. Looking down into the face of his son, all dark brown hair and hazel eyes, he experienced the purity of love for the first time in his life. Here was this tiny person who depended on him, who he could love without reservation or hesitation. He wanted to do everything he could to give him the very best shot at life.

That evening, as Mira slept, he'd gone back to their apartment, reached up onto a shelf at the back of his closet, and pulled down a dusty old shoebox. Sitting on the bed he lifted the lid for the first time in a year. Inside were dozens of momentos from his old life. The life before Mira and Andrew. Before Carly died and Sam left. He ran a finger softly over the picture on top, he and Sam on the beach, her face thrown back laughing. He felt a familiar ache and hurriedly pushed the picture aside. He had something he needed to do. Walking over to his dresser, he reached underneath the clothes until his hands felt the small velvet box he kept there.

Before Sam left, he'd gone to dinner with his mother and as they waited for their dessert to come out, she'd slid the box over to him. He knew what it was without opening it and wondered how she knew what he'd been planning.

'_It's the ring your father gave me. The same ring his father gave his mother.'_

'_How did you know?'_

'_I've been in love, Fredward. I know what it looks like when you start to think about forever.'_

He'd been elated, worked out in his head all the ways he could propose, all the ways he could make it special. Then she'd left and the box had stayed hidden away in the top drawer of his dresser ever since. Some small part of him was waiting, he supposed. Waiting for the time she'd rush back into his life. But that wasn't possible now. The life and the dreams attached to this ring had no place in the life he was living now. As much as he had loved Sam – maybe even still loved Sam, he loved his son more.

Looking at the ring one last time, he closed the velvet box and placed it in the shoebox. The whole thing winded him and he'd had to sit on the edge of the bed, wrangling in the flood of emotions. He allowed himself some time. He allowed himself to remember – what it had felt like to hold her. What it had felt like the first time he'd kissed her, the first time he'd made love to her, the moment he'd known she loved him. He didn't bother to wipe the tears that fell, for the first time in nearly two years he didn't censor his pain, but allowed it to echo in his chest. And when the tears slowed and the pain began to ebb, he stood from the bed, took the box, placed it on the top shelf of his closet at the back and left the room. It was time to go back to the hospital – to get his family.

They'd brought A.J. back from the hospital and he'd pushed all thoughts of Sam and his life before from his mind. If there was anything Freddie was good at, it was committing to a plan. and he'd committed to Mira and A.J.; to giving them the best life he could.

He loved his son, and fatherhood suited him he thought. They moved back to Seattle for his job and Mira stayed home with A.J. It was a peaceful existence, very little drama. They settled into a condo that cost more than he should have spent, but Mira loved it and part of him thought they'd need the room for any other children they might have.

He put in a late night phone call to New York and asked her father for his blessing on making it official. He bought a ring – he couldn't quite bring himself to pull the one on his closet shelf. That ring belonged to someone else – even if she'd never know it. He planned out how he'd propose all the while pushing down the feeling that his whole heart wasn't in it.

He took her to the beach and, with the sunset as a backdrop, he got on one knee and asked her to be his. The moment was a contradiction in terms; happy and achingly sad, he was filled with hope and devastated at its loss. Marrying Mira was, to his mind, the right thing to do. But it was also a goodbye to Sam, the final end of the forever he'd always planned on having.

She said yes, her face lit up in happiness, her eyes shining. Her happiness at that moment, and in the next few months, was just what he needed to drown out his lingering doubts. She planned the whole wedding herself. It was going to be simple; one bridesmaid, one groomsman, and only their family and closest friends on a beach in Jamaica. Freddie let her do what she wanted, rejecting her attempts to involve him in the planning. He told her that it was a guy thing – he just didn't care about all the girly details. But that lie grew heavier and heavier as the months passed and the wedding approached. True, he didn't care a hill of beans what kind of flowers his mother carried or what color his tie was. But the truth that plagued him in the quiet corners of the night and in the moments where discussions of their future turned his stomach in knots, was that when he pictured this day, when he'd imagined someone floating in white down an aisle and into his arms – it wasn't Mira.

His mother tried to talk to him about it. Spencer tried to talk to him about it. Was he sure? Was this really what he wanted? His answer was always the same.

'I love Mira. We have a son. I'm going to marry her.'

It was cut and dried, like an equation with only one answer. He'd give his son a mother and father who lived in the same house. He'd give Mira what she deserved, someone to love her and take care of her. It didn't really matter what he needed.

He'd have gladly gone on that way. Boarded the plane, put on his tux, and made Mira his wife, but fate had other ideas.

_Entering the house he'd called out Mira's name and heard nothing. They were moving to a larger place when they returned from the honeymoon, and with the wedding only a week out, the apartment was in disarray as they packed. Navigating the maze of boxes he walked back into their bedroom. Standing in the doorway he met Mira's eyes and knew something was terribly wrong. _

_Mira sat on the floor, surrounded by sweaters and jeans. He looked up at the top shelf in his closet and found it empty._

"_I was trying to clean up." She said quietly and his eyes settled on what was sitting in front of her. The shoebox. "I wasn't snooping I swear."_

_He walked toward her slowly, unsure of what to say, unsure of what all she'd seen._

_She held a picture in her hand, turned it over to read the writing on the back. "For my favorite nub. Until Forever Ends. Sam." Mira looked up at him. "She's really beautiful." Her voice was soft and that broke his heart._

"_Mira, it doesn't matter. We've been over this. That was my old life." He knelt beside her. "It doesn't matter anymore."_

_She reached into the box and brought out an old faded envelope, pulling the letter that was inside and read to him the words that had broken his heart._

'_The last two years with you have been the best of my life. Your love and Carly's memory are the only things that give me strength enough to do this. And my love for you is the only thing that gives me strength enough to let you go._

"_Please know that what I'm doing isn't meant to hurt you – it's meant to help me find myself. And I can only hope that when that happens, they'll still be room in your heart to let me in."_

_He tried to get her to stop reading but she ignored him. When she was done she looked up at him. "She really loved you. I mean, what she did was awful, but she loved you."_

_Freddie was silent. This wasn't a conversation he wanted to have with her. His life with Mira worked because he kept it completely separate from what had come before it. He didn't want the two to meet._

_He looked over at Mira who was not holding a small velvet box in her hand. _

"_This was for her?" she said, more statement than question. She opened the box and pulled the ring out, reading the inscription._

**'For my princess. My heart can only ever be yours. Freddie_'_**

"_Mira, why are you doing this?"_

"_I saw this ring before. It was your mom's right?" she asked, not waiting for answer, "I saw it in her wedding pictures."_

_He nodded his head. "That was a really long time ago, Mira." _

"_But it's still here Freddie." She said, looking up at him. "You don't talk about it – ever, but it's still there."_

"_Mira…"_

"_No, Freddie." She said, shaking her head. "I've been planning this wedding, thinking about what it's going to be like to be your wife, what it will be like to build a life with you. And that whole time I've watched you and hoped that one day I'd see the same happiness on your face that I have. That one day you'd wake up and want this as much as I do." She looked down at the ring again, twirling it in her fingers. "I thought maybe you were right, that maybe it was just you being a guy. But this," she said holding the ring out to him, "this is the truth. You kept this box, hidden away but still you kept it. And you've kept her too, in that hidden away part of your heart. She's still there. Isn't she?"_

_Her voice dared him to contradict her. He shook his head but said nothing._

_She put the ring back in its box. "I thought it would go away. I thought that I could love you enough, that A.J. and I could be enough."_

"_You are enough!" he cried._

_She was crying now, large tears dripping down into her lap. "Damn it Freddie just stop! Just be honest for once – if not with me than at least with yourself!" She wiped at her face and refused to look at him. _"_Do you know that you still say her name in your sleep? That anytime Spencer mentions her you flinch, change the subject, then leave the room? And that every year since I met you, on August 20__th__ – the same date as this letter, you barely speak?" She looked at him, pain in her eyes. "It's like living with a ghost Freddie. A ghost that you shared everything with. The ghost of the girl you loved first. I can't compete with that."_

"_You don't have to! I never asked you to."_

"_I know – this is my fault really. I always knew, she was always there, but I was just stubborn enough to think I could make her go away."_

"_No Mira, this isn't your fault! There is no 'this.' You're making more of it than there is. I'm committed to you. You and A.J. – you're my family now!"_

"_Ever the boy scout," she said, "but I don't want someone to be with me because they think they have to, Freddie. I don't want a part of your heart - I want all of it." She wiped the tears from her face. "It was different when I thought she was just a monster who broke your heart. She was just this faceless part of your past – someone you loved who didn't love you back, not the way she was supposed to." She picked up the picture of Sam and the letter, studying them. "But that's not exactly true, is it?"_

_Freddie reached for her hand and she pulled it away, and he could feel her heart pulling away too. He didn't want to lose her. He didn't want to hurt her. But more than anything he didn't want to admit that she was right._

"_I never lied to you," he said._

"_You're right, you didn't lie," she said. "I believed what I wanted to believe. I wanted what you had with her to be some childhood puppy love. So maybe you didn't lie to me, maybe I lied to myself."_

_He was losing her, he could feel the connection between them like a rubber band stretched too far; the breaking was imminent. With panicked energy he sat beside her and pulled her left hand into his lap, lifting her ring finger._

"_This means something to me! I asked you to marry me not…her. I gave you a ring, not her!"_

_She looked down at her hand and smiled. "This is a beautiful ring Freddie, but that's all it is. You're right, I got the ring." She pressed her hand to his chest. "But she still has what really matters."_

_Mira sighed, looking down at her hand for a moment before pulling off her engagement ring and pressing it into Freddie's palm._

"_Mira, stop this! We have a son, we have a family. I love you, damn it!"_

"_But not enough. You heart won't ever be only mine, will it?"_

"_What do you want me to say?"_

_She looked up at him, and he saw then the familiar strength in her eyes that had drawn him to her in the beginning.  
><em>

_"I want you to tell me that you don't love her. I want you to tell me that she's not the one who holds your heart."_

_He tried to. He opened his mouth and his mind screamed the words. But his heart, his heart was honest – for the first time in a long time, and it forced him into silence. That silence was all the answer Mira had needed._

She left the next day and took AJ with her, saying she needed some space. The time apart from his son nearly killed him, and he missed Mira more than he thought possible. She went home to her family in New York, and he was terrified that she'd make the arrangement permanent. Eventually, after many strained phone calls and apologies she agreed to come back to Seattle – but not back to him. She got an apartment close to his, found a job, and they began their attempts at co-parenting. Now his shoe box held two ring boxes and his heart was in worse shape than before.

For a long time he was angry – angry at Mira for giving up, angry at Sam for leaving, angry at himself for not being able to be what either woman had needed, angry at the world for dealing him a colossally bad hand. But over time he accepted that Mira was right. She was amazing and she deserved to be with someone who could give his whole self. And even now, six years later, he knew. He'd given his heart away years ago – and he'd never gotten it back.

He was sure the whole thing could have worked out worse. He and Mira were friends, both of them committed to raising AJ in as healthy an environment as they could. And so far he thought they'd done pretty good. His mother helped a lot. She might have been hesitant to accept his relationship with Mira, but she adored her grandson and spent every second she could with him. If you added 'Uncle Spencer' to the mix, Freddie figured that even if his family wasn't exactly normal, A.J. was lucky to have so many people who loved him.

Firing off a message to Mira and then to Spencer, to confirm what time he was dropping A.J. off with him, he walked up the stairs and peeked his head into A.J.'s bedroom. The room was a mess, as usual. In just under thirty minutes he'd somehow managed to take out every toy he owned and scatter them to every corner of the room. He walked into the room and looked in the closet – A.J.'s favorite hiding spot. No A.J.

Frowning, he looked in the other hiding spots his son frequented, but he wasn't under the bed, or in the bathtub, or in the toy box. He was really taking this one-sided game of hide and seek seriously, but hunting though the house for A.J. was not exactly part of the agenda today and if he didn't find him soon it would set the whole day off kilter.

"A.J.?" he called, walking back out into the hallway.

"I'm up here daddy!" A.J. responded immediately. So this was no game of hide and seek. Walking up another short set of steps he walked into his room where AJ sat on the bed, turning a picture over in his hand.

"Hey Daddy." A.J. said, looking up from the picture.

"Hey buddy…what you got there?"

"I found a picture of Aunt Carly." Freddie sat down beside him on the bed. "Who's this other lady?"

Freddie sighed. A.J. was persistent, there was no such thing as not answering one of his questions once A.J. got it in his head that he needed an answer. Another Mira trait.

Freddie accepted the picture from A.J.'s small hand and looked at it for the first time in a long time. He couldn't help a small smile that lit his face as he looked down and felt the jar of a heart headed swiftly into the closet of his stored memories. It was a picture of him, Sam, and Carly on their first day at USC. He'd spent the morning helping Sam and Carly settle in, even though he had his own unpacking to do. They were all tired and sweaty, but even in a wife beater and shorts, her hair pulled into a messy bun, Sam was beautiful. It seemed like a hundred years ago. A part of the life he termed 'before.' And the thought of the 'after' that followed that picture sent his heart into his throat.

"That was daddy's friend," he said. A.J. looked at him, waiting for more information. "We all grew up together."

"You mean when you were little like me?"

"Not quite that long ago." He said, _'but sometimes it feels like it.'_

"She's not your friend anymore?"

"No buddy, she's not."

"Did you get in a fight cuz she didn't want to share turns on the swings? Me and Ethan was friends but he hogged all the turns and now we're not friends no more."

Freddie laughed. "Not exactly."

"What's her name?"

Freddie pointed at the picture the words stuck in his throat and he realized just how long it had been since he said her name. "This is Sam."

"Does she live with the angels like Aunt Carly?"

Freddie ran a finger over Carly's image and for that moment the pain of losing her was fresh. "I…I don't know A.J. I don't think so. I think she lives far away from here though."

A.J. smiled at Sam's image. "I don't think she's with the angels, daddy."

"No?"

"Nope…she's too pretty. I think the angels would get jealous."

Freddie shook his head. Sometimes the things his son came up with.

"Alright, you ready to go get some pancakes?" he said.

"Yes!" A.J. screamed, his thoughts already a million miles away from the photo…Freddie wished he could forget that easily.

"Go ahead and grab your backpack, and I'll meet you downstairs." He watched as A.J. flew out of the room. With a sigh he turned back to the picture. With a sigh he walked into his office, putting the picture in his locked desk drawer where A.J. couldn't see it, and hoped it was out of reach for his heart too.

Lunch with AJ was, as always, a loud, messy and energetic affair. When they'd finally left the pancake house, Freddie jittery from 4 cups of coffee and A.J. with syrup staining the front of his shirt, Freddie had just enough time to drop A.J. at Spencer's and get to SCC for his guest lecture. He navigated Seattle traffic as quickly as he could while trying to follow his son's conversation as he jumped from one topic to another. As he made the turn onto Spencer's street his phone began to vibrate in his cup holder.

"Hey Spence, we're almost there."

"Oh, really? Okay…"

Something in Spencer's voice made it obvious that he hadn't been calling for an ETA.

"What's up Spence? Is everything okay?"

"Um, yeah. I just. I just got a phone call a few minutes ago."

"From who."

He heard Spencer curse under his breath. "I shouldn't be telling you this."

"Telling me what?"

"She's gonna kill me."

"Who, Spence! Will you quit beating around the bush and tell me what's going on already?" he propped his phone onto his ear as he pulled into the parking garage. "I just got into the parking garage. I might lose you."

As he'd expected his phone's signal began to fade in and 0ut, making Spencer's words unclear.

"Spencer! Can you hear me?" Just as he was about to hang up he heard Spencer's voice, and wished he hadn't.

"It's Sam, Freddie. She's home."

* * *

><p><strong>AN2:**

**So…now we know what Freddie's been up to. Hope you don't hate me too much for giving Freddie someone to love…you gotta admit, Mira is pretty cool, right?**

**Next chapter – the reunion…and its Seddie so how smooth can it go? lol**

**Leave me some love…or hate, whatever – just hit the little blue button.**


	6. One From the Other  Part 3

**A/N:**

**So we know what our favorite couple has been up to these last six years. They both worked hard to push down the memories of their time together. But sometimes, despite our best efforts, life has a way of throwing us into the middle of what we've tried our hardest to avoid.**

**Disclaimer: It's all Dan's (well most of it) even if he NEVER does what I think he should.**

* * *

><p><strong>September 2020<strong>

"_Ladies and Gentleman, we are about to begin our final descent into Seattle-Tacoma International Airport. Please turn off all electronic devices, fasten your seatbelts and return all seats to the upright position."_

Sam stretched and turned to her travel companion, elbowing him in the side.

"Ow!" Raj started awake. "I agreed to come with you on this trip from hell. I did NOT agree to be your punching bag."

"You're supposed to be here for moral support," Sam said, "to keep me from freaking out. But here I am, freaking out, and there you are, asleep!" She elbowed him again. "So you're not doing your job."

Raj rolled his eyes, fastening his seatbelt. "And that's because you freaking out doesn't make a lot of sense. Seattle is a big place and we're only here for three days. In and out. You probably won't even see this mystery ex-boyfriend you never want to talk about."

They'd had this conversation before, a million time before. Once she and Raj became friends and he'd made his desire to be more than that known, she'd told him that relationships were out of the question for her right now. Raj, being Raj, knew there had to be a reason and one night over way too many Coconut Feni's she'd told him the story – well, most of it anyway. She hadn't been drunk enough to tell him everything. So he knew she'd had a boyfriend, a relatively serious one, and that after her best friend died she'd left this boyfriend and never seen or heard from him again. What he didn't know was the depth of that relationship, that there were few days that went by when he didn't at least cross her mind, or that she still saw him in her dreams.

It had been five years since she'd been in the same city as Freddie – that is, Freddie and the beautiful girlfriend whom he appeared to be in love with. The idea of sharing the same air, the possibility of actually running into him, felt like standing on the edge of a cliff with an 80-foot drop; and she was scared of heights.

Raj wouldn't understand. By his own admission, he'd never been in love. He didn't understand how giving your heart away was generally a permanent thing. You might move on, but getting over it was an entirely different story. Even with all the distance and time she'd put between Freddie and herself, there was a part of her heart that obstinately refused to stop wanting him.

"Sam?" She looked up and saw Raj standing beside her seat, looking down at her with concern. "We're here. You ready?"

'_Absolutely not.'_ She thought, but she slapped a smile on her face, unbuckled her seatbelt, and headed for the aisle. "Yep, let's go."

* * *

><p>Spencer Shay was in his element. Surrounded by the smell of paint, the sounds of downtown Seattle, and the faces of artists who, just like him, wanted to use their talent to make a difference in the world. This was exactly where he belonged.<p>

He smiled and grabbed the stack of brushes sitting at his feet, heading for the alley where all the supplies were being staged. After years of creating art in relative obscurity, he was finally being recognized by the world- or at least Seattle. His usual medium was sculpture but any form of art came easily to him, and that versatility catapulted him into the spotlight.

When Carly died it seemed like his muse was buried with her. He hadn't painted, sculpted or done art in any form for over a year. He'd even taken another job as a dental hygienist for a while – just to pay the bills. One night, home from his shift at the dentist's office, he'd come home and flopped down on the couch still dressed in his scrubs.

He was feeling sorry for himself. His sister was gone and Sam, who was like a sister to him, was gone as well – his only contact with her a short conversation over a year ago to tell him she was in India, and that she was safe. He missed them, both of them, so much. Even more so in moments like this. With them gone and Freddie and Gibby both away at college, his apartment was quiet. No more unannounced visitors, no one barging through his door and raiding his refrigerator. No more problems to help solve or adventures to play 'grown up chaperone' for. He was well and truly alone for the first time in his life. And he hated it.

Just as he'd started to drift off he'd gotten a call from a number he didn't recognize. For a minute, he considered not answering it. No one really called him anymore, and the office was closed.

"Hello?"

"Spencer?" The line was full of static, making it hard to determine the voice.

"Yeah…this is Spencer."

"Hey Spence," the vaguely familiar voice said. "How's it hangin'?"

That phrase, just that one phrase yanked him forcibly back to a memory of a tiny blonde with a big mouth and an even bigger attitude, sprawled on his sofa eating ham.

"Sam? Is that you?" he sat up, the phone to his ear.

"Yeah, it's me, Spence." Her voice was soft and now that the connection had cleared he thought he heard her sniffling.

"Oh my God, kid! How are you? Where are you? Are you okay? Do you need anything?"

She chuckled into the phone, "Slow down there cowboy, one question at a time."

"Sorry, it's just been so long and I wasn't expecting to hear from you and I…God Sam, I miss you." Now he was the one sniffling. He'd known that he missed her but now, hearing her voice, was like ripping the scab off a wound that had barely healed.

"I miss you too Spence, more than you know." The line went silent and for a moment, he panicked, thinking she'd hung up.

"Sam? Sam! Are you there?"

"I'm here." She laughed – she'd forgotten how spazzy he could be.

"Oh, okay. So how are you? How's it going over there?"

"It's good, but I'm not…I'm not in India right now."

"Really? Where are you?"

"Actually I'm – I'm in Seattle."

"Shut up! Come over right now!" he said, standing from the couch and hurrying to his room to get dressed. He needed to get a shower and clean up the house and cook something – she was surely hungry, Sam was always hungry. "I'll make spaghetti tacos and we'll watch movies and hang out and…"

"Spence, I can't come to the loft…you know that."

"Why not…" he tapered off, realizing the answer to his own question.

Freddie.

As far as he knew, they hadn't even spoken since she'd left. It was a hard thing to watch Freddie fall apart. Spencer himself had even jumped between missing Sam, worrying about her, and being raging angry at her for disappearing. When he'd finally gotten the call and knew where she was, it hadn't made it any easier. She'd made him promise not to give Freddie any details, and when Freddie heard that, it seemed that all thoughts of missing her or loving her had disappeared and he'd been angry – angrier than Spencer had ever seen him. He refused to allow anyone even to mention Sam in his presence. Spencer understood, but it was the final hit that shattered what he'd once considered his family.

Of course she wouldn't want to see him, and to be honest, he wasn't sure he wanted to be in the middle of something so volatile.

"Oh…" he said. "You don't want to see Fre…"

"Don't." She was quick to stop him, not even wanting to hear his name. "But I really want to see you before I leave. Want to meet for dinner? My treat?"

Her treat? Sam never treated! He guessed India really had changed her. "Yeah, of course. Where do you want to meet?"

They'd settled on a restaurant pretty far from his apartment. He figured she wasn't taking any chances on seeing Freddie. When he saw her it was like no time had passed at all. She still looked like Sam, a little more tanned and a lot quieter, but it was her. When she made fun of the socks he was wearing, he was sure of it. They'd spent hours together that night. She told him about India and her work there; he'd never seen her be that passionate about anything that wasn't edible. He told her what he'd been up to and watched as her forehead knit together in worry.

"So wait a minute. You're a dental hygienist…again?" He nodded his head. "But what about your art? How do you have time for that and this job?"

"Oh, it's pretty easy really – since I don't do art anymore."

She'd sat up straight, and leaned over the table. Her eyes were fiery. This was the Sam he knew. This was the Sam he missed.

"What the hell are you talking about Spencer? You don't _do_ art anymore? How can you not do art – you're an artist! That's like the Colonel deciding he doesn't do chicken anymore!"

He laughed, more at her reaction to the situation than to the situation itself. He'd had a year to get used to the fact that he might never be an artist again. Usually he handled it pretty well. It had been a long time since anyone really made him talk about it.

"I just – I don't know Sam. I just can't do it anymore." He looked over at her, her eyes were wide and impatient, waiting on his response. "It's like, nothing comes to me. I used to look at wood or clay or random stuff from the junkyard and in my head I could see it being something. I saw what I could make of it but since…since…"

"Since Carly," Sam whispered. He nodded his head and told himself not to cry.

"Since then I just can't. Nothing speaks to me."

Sam reached across the table and held his hand, forcing him to look at her.

"Spence, I know exactly how you feel. Not having Carly around, it still feels like this giant piece of me is missing sometimes. And for a long time I thought that I'd never be okay again – like I'd never be 'me' again. Ya' know?"

He nodded; he knew exactly what she meant. He'd been Spencer Shay, wacky brother to beautiful, responsible Carly. When she left it was like he had no identity – he still felt that way.

"But what I've learned since I've been away is that maybe the hurt, the feeling of missing her doesn't go away, but who I am – that person Carly loved and supported and took care of for as long as I knew her – she's still in there and the best way to honor Carly's memory is to do something with it – something that matters." She squeezed his hand. "You're an artist Spencer, it's who you are, who you've always been. Carly wouldn't want you to lose that."

He'd nodded his head, knowing she was right. Worried that knowledge wouldn't make a difference.

They'd returned to talking. He'd tried to mention Freddie – who happened to be home from USC for the weekend, with a friend he hadn't met yet. But Sam was adamant, no conversations about Freddie. She did ask about Marissa and seemed sad, even though her mouth was smiling. He was sure Sam missed Marissa – he knew Marissa missed Sam. It struck him then, the sadness of it all – people who loved each other, acting as if their memories of each other could just be erased.

At the end of the night they'd stopped by Carly's grave, both of them silent and lost in their own memories of her, and then he'd hugged her hard as they said goodbye. He made her promise to call him from time to time. She agreed and made him promise not to tell anyone that she'd been there.

When he'd gotten home, the conversation with Sam still fresh in his mind, he'd walked up the stairs to the old iCarly studio, where he kept his art supplies, and pulled out a blank white canvas. He sat staring at it for a long time, a familiar feeling rippling through him that he wasn't quite ready to name. Inspiration? Passion? Maybe, but in the moment it felt more like need. He reached for a piece of charcoal and for the next three hours he'd worked in a sort of fog. His fingers seemed to move on their own without conscious instruction on what to do. When he was done, he put down his piece of charcoal and realized his face was wet with tears. Looking at his easel he gave a ragged sigh, wiping his face with the back of his hand. It was Carly, a canvas full of all the ways he'd known her. There was infant Carly, head full of wavy hair, sucking her fingers in sleep. There was three year old Carly, smiling – front teeth missing, her arms raised up to him. Carly pouting, laughing, crying. It was a circular timeline of the life he shared with the sister he'd loved since the day their parents brought her home, and at the center of it was her face, grown up and beautiful, her smile soft as her eyes looked out from the canvas and right through him. She looked peaceful and happy.

_The best way to honor her memory is to do something with it – something that matters_

Sam's words echoed in his mind, and the years' worth of pain and fear receded just enough for him to see the truth – this was who he was. He couldn't make it go away any more than he could make the memories of his sister go away, and he didn't want to.

From that day on he'd thrown himself back into his art with a passion bordering on obsession. The inspiration that had all but dried up the year previous returned with a vengeance. He quit his job at the dentist's office and started to look for ways to use his art to make a difference. He started working with the Seattle school system, teaching art afterschool in disadvantaged areas. There, in the room with kids that everyone else had written off, he found his place and he never left it.

Eventually people began to notice what he was doing. He was asked to create a similar program that could be run in schools, juvenile detention centers, and even adjusted for use as art therapy for kids with special needs. He loved what he did, which was why he was standing in the sweltering heat holding an armload of brushes and grinning like a loon.

The Seattle Arts Society had approached him with an idea. They wanted the children involved in the arts programs he'd helped develop around the city to create a mural to be painted on the McConnell Building in downtown Seattle at the center of the art district. He'd agreed before they'd even finished asking him, and now he was surrounded by the noise of nearly 200 kids, parents, and volunteers as they gathered in the alley across from the McConnell Building, organizing the supplies needed to complete the mural. It was going to be a very long day, made even longer by the fact that for a portion of it he'd be responsible for keeping an eye on his godson A.J., but there were few things he loved more than spending time with A.J, and he loved even more that A.J loved anything art related. He was going to adore doing this.

He was due to meet Freddie and AJ at his loft in about an hour. That was plenty of time to get the troops organized and started on the mural so he could concentrate on A.J. when he arrived. Feeling his phone vibrating in his pocket, he set the brushes down against the wall to answer it.

"Speak to me!"

"Spencer?"

He'd know that voice anywhere – especially now that she actually called sometimes. "Sam?"

"The one and only! What's up Spence? How are you?"

"I'm good! Really good! I'm working on a mural for Seattle Arts Society with some of the kids from my program." He leaned against the wall, still smiling. "It's good to hear your voice Miss Puckett! How are things in India?"

"Good last time I checked, but I'm not there right now."

"What? Did you move? Where are you?"

"Nope, didn't move but my job sent me on a fundraising tour. We're on the last leg."

"Really? That sounds exciting."

"Yeah, I just wish Seattle wasn't so hot in the summer – it's like being back in India!"

"I know, it's been…wait a minute. Did you say Seattle?" He pushed away from the wall. "You're here?" he screamed into the phone.

Sam pulled the phone away from her ear, laughing. "Just a little louder Spence, I don't think the lady in the car next to mine heard you. Yeah, I'm here!"

"God, Sam! When did you get here? How long are you staying? _Where _are you staying? Do I get to see you?"

She laughed. "I just got here. I'll be here for three days and I'm staying at The Olympic."

"And I get to see you…"

"Well, I'm on my way to the hotel now, but I could meet you for lunch in a couple of hours?"

"How about you come down here? We're at McConnell building. I'd love for you to see the mural."

"Okay, that sounds great. I remember where that is. I'll be there. And you're paying for lunch this time."

"Sure thing kiddo, see you soon."

"Oh, and Spence….don't say anything to…"

"Yeah, I know the drill. See you soon."

He hung up then and stood grinning out in to the busy alleyway.

"Someone's happy today!"

Walking toward him, already covered in paint, was Kayla – one of the volunteers. She ran an art gallery just around the corner, and for the last two years she'd been an integral part of the arts program in the schools and a big supporter of Spencer's personal art career – last month she'd done a showcase of his drawings, including the one he'd done of Carly. She was as passionate about art as he was and beautiful besides. They'd become good friends, but he waited patiently for the day when he could make it more than that.

"Hey Kayla!"

"What's got you spitting out sunshine?" she laughed, leaning down to pick up the brushes he'd dropped.

"Oh," he said, helping her, "a friend of mine, well more like a sister really, is in town and she's coming down to see me."

Kayla looked up at him, one eyebrow raised, "A friend?"

"Yeah. She was…she was Carly's best friend."

Kayla nodded her head and said nothing as they started into the alley. She knew about Carly-she'd lost a brother herself when she was young so, unlike most people, she understood exactly what that type of loss felt like.

"What time is she coming?" Kayla said, moving out of the way as a group of kids ran between them.

"Um…she said in a couple hours."

"Good! So she'll get to meet A.J.!" Kayla said, "Let me know when she gets here, I'd love to meet her." She called over her shoulder, heading out of the alley to the mural site just across the street.

A.J.

'_Shit_,' Spencer thought. A.J. would be here at the same time as Sam. A.J. – Freddie's son that Spencer had neglected to mention to Sam. This was bad. Really bad.

The easy answer was to pick up A.J as soon as he could and have Freddie pick him up from the loft, but by then Spencer would be in the middle of things with the mural project; he couldn't leave. Which meant Freddie would show up here – and see Sam.

If he didn't warn either of them he ran the risk of standing in the middle of World War III – with him as the first casualty. If he called Sam and told her he knew, she wouldn't come. He only had one option.

He debated with himself as he drove to his house. Pacing around his apartment as he waited for Freddie he remembered his promise to Sam. She didn't want Freddie to know she was here but at this point it was unavoidable. If Freddie didn't see her when he picked up AJ he'd surely notice her when she gave her presentation at the Gala tonght. No, there wasn't a way around it. The best thing to do was at least try to minimize the fall out.

He pulled his phone from his pocket, took a deep breath and made a call he never thought he'd make.

* * *

><p>Sam was home.<p>

_Sam_ was home.

Sam was _home_.

The words played on a loop since Spencer said them. While he dropped off A.J. with Spencer – who refused to give any further details. While he drove to SCC. Even while he gave his guest lecture on new trends in software development for security technologies. He was amazed he'd been able to get through the hour long session, focused as his mind was on the petite blond he hadn't seen in six years.

She was in Seattle.

He'd finally wrapped his mind around that fact. What he didn't know was why. What was she doing here after all this time? Why, hadn't she called him?"

_Why would she?_ he thought. It was a completely unrealistic expectation. It wasn't like they were friends or anything anymore. It wasn't like she owed him an explanation or a detailed schedule when she visited. He probably shouldn't even care that she was here. That was part of what was bothering him. Since the moment Spencer had uttered the words, something in him that he'd thought was dead or at least dormant had leaped to life. A surging, frantic anxiety beat once again in his chest.

He wanted to see her.

It wasn't going to happen. He knew that. If Sam didn't want to be seen by him, then she wouldn't; it was one of her special talents. And from the sounds of it, she'd told Spencer not to even tell Freddie that she was there. No, she didn't want to see him. But it didn't change how he felt and he kicked himself for being such a pansy.

_She left you. She walked out on you and ruined your life. _

_She doesn't matter._

He kept telling himself that. While he walked from his lecture. While he stopped to pick up sandwiches for the kids and volunteers who were working with Spencer. While he stalled, trying to get himself under control before he'd see Spencer. In his car on the way to pick up A.J. he was still saying it.

And it was still a lie.

* * *

><p>"Where are you dragging me to?" Raj sat in the passenger's seat of their rental, his handsome face set in a frown. When they'd arrived at the hotel, there had been a mix up with their rooms. The hotel initially told them they'd have to share a room, which had brought a smile to Raj's face that he hadn't even bothered to hide. But after some wrangling and mild threatening the hotel had 'found' another room – which had replaced Raj's smile with the frown he now wore.<p>

He'd never made it a secret that he liked Sam – was attracted to her and more than willing to explore the possibility of a relationship. But for Sam it was a serious impossibility. Raj was her closest friend – she'd done the 'friends to lovers' thing before and it hadn't worked out well. She'd never try it again.

She looked at Raj and smiled. He was as petulant as a toddler when he didn't get his way. He had a puppy dog-eyed pout that rivaled the best of Carly's and, just like Carly's, more often than not it worked. But on the issue of sharing a room, she was adamant. If The Olympic hadn't been able to find her a room she'd have gone to another hotel. As adamant as she was about not having any romantic feelings for Raj, she couldn't deny that there was a definite chemistry between them. She'd been celibate for almost six years now, and with her already feeling anxious about being in Seattle, the last thing she needed was to let her guard down with someone who looked like Raj just one bed away.

"I'm not dragging you anywhere Raj. I told you that you could stay at the hotel."

"Right, stay in doing nothing while you traipse around town having fun without me? Not bloody likely."  
>This wasn't a pleasure visit exactly, she thought. She hadn't seen Spencer in a long time, and even though she was happy to see him, she knew that it would open up the part of her she was careful to keep locked away. But she couldn't be here, in Seattle, and not see him – no matter how long it had been, Spencer was family. More family than her own mother, whom she wouldn't have visited even if Pam still lived in Seattle.<p>

The last time she'd heard from her mother, Pam was living in Michigan with a new guy. Shockingly, she'd been with him for over a year; the longest relationship Sam had ever known her to have outside of Sam's father. She was happy for her but even her mother's new found stability did little to change the years of neglect and dysfunction that had been the hallmark of their relationship.

Sam turned right and entered downtown Seattle, just ahead of her she saw the McConnell Building and pulled into a parking spot on the side of the street. She turned off the car and turned to Raj, still pouting as he looked out onto the street.

"Raj?" she said, poking him in the arm. "Listen, this is going to be hard for me. I need you here. And not the you with an attitude."

He turned to her and sighed. Whatever his faults, Raj was unfailingly supportive of her – that's what she counted on.

"You know I'm here Blondie – whatever you need."

She reached out and squeezed his hand.

"You're the best Raj."

"Yeah, yeah." He said, undoing his seatbelt. "You owe me." He winked, "And I prefer my favors returned in the nude."

She punched him and laughed, exiting the car. Inappropriate though it might have been, his comment relaxed her a bit, and she walked toward the building feeling a little lighter.

"Alright people! Let's get moving!"

She heard him before she saw him. His voice echoed through the alley that seemed to vibrate with the movement of at least a hundred people – all moving toward the street. He stood with his back to her, towering over everyone, a bullhorn in his hand. She walked towards him, hoping to surprise him when he turned suddenly and saw her.

His eyes lit up, and a smile that made her heart ache filled his face. Without a thought, she ran toward him, screaming his name. He dropped his bullhorn and scooped her up in a hug.

"Sam!" His voice was loud but she didn't mind. She didn't think she'd ever been so happy to see anyone. They were both talking at once, their words not nearly as important as the fact that after so many years, they were finally together – almost all the family either of them had left.

Finally lowering her to the ground, Spencer stared down at her and in that moment it was like the last six years had never happened. Spencer stood, still tall and lanky, paint smeared over his cheek and on his clothes. He looked exactly the same as he always had.

"God it's good to see you kid!" he smiled and pulled her into another hug. Over the years Sam had gotten used to a lack of physical touch. She loved all the girls in the Girl Force homes and got more hugs from them than she could count, but to the adults around her it was a well-known fact that Sam didn't like to be touched. This was different, this time when Spencer wrapped his arms around her she melted into them and it felt like home.

Spencer looked over her shoulder at Raj, who was standing back – allowing her this moment.

"Who's your friend?" he asked.

Sam, who'd almost forgotten Raj was there, turned and motioned for him to join them.

"Spencer, this is my good friend and colleague Rajesh."

They two men shook hands, both appraising each other tentatively. Sam shook her head. Men.

"Nice to meet you Raj," Spencer said finally.

"Same here."

"So, Sam – what the heck are you doing here anyway?"

"Well, my boss sent us on a fundraising tour here in the States for a new project we're working on back in Goa." She wanted to tell him all about the project, and how it was in honor of Carly's memory, but now wasn't the time. "Seattle was our last stop. We're doing a presentation for the Seattle Philanthropic Society tonight."

"The Gala?" Spencer said, his voice raising an octave. "You're going to the Gala?" He suddenly looked ashen.

"Yeah…The SPS does a lot of work with victims of sex trafficking, so they asked us to come and speak."

"Not we. You." Raj said. "Blondie here is magic in front of the fat wallet crowd. She's doing the presenting. I'm just along to keep her company."

Spencer studied Raj, looking between him and Sam. Something in the way Raj talked about her made Spencer wonder what kind of company they were keeping exactly.

"You going to the Gala too?" Sam asked.

"Me? Oh, no, not really my thing. But a, uh, friend of mine will be there so…I've heard of it."

"What friend…" Sam started to speak and was cut off by Spencer wrapping her in another hug.

"I can't believe you're here, short stuff!"

"Dude!" a small voice called from behind Spencer. He pulled away from the hug and he and Sam looked down at the new interruption.

Sam saw a set of tiny hands wrapped around Spencer's legs. A pair of scuffed black Converse were visible but not much else.

"Dude!" Spencer said, turning around. "Where you been?"

Spencer's face spread into a smile and he looked down at a small boy with brown hair and brown eyes. He had an impish look, like he was perpetually on the verge of getting into trouble. A kid after Sam's own heart.

"Kayla took me to get ice cream!" The boy's grin was wide, revealing two teeth missing in the front. "And she let me get double sprinkles!"

"Wow!" Spencer said. "She never lets me get double sprinkles!"

"Cuz she likes me more." The boy said, shrugging his shoulders. Noticing Sam, he ducked behind Spencer's legs, peering out to look at her.

"Hey there!" Sam said, smiling down at him. When he looked up at her, his eyes were curious and the most beautiful brown she'd ever seen. "What's your name?"

"My name is Andrew but no one calls me that 'cept my teacher and my mommy when she's mad."

Spencer laughed, "This is Andrew Jared, but we call him Trouble…I mean AJ." He laughed. "AJ is my…"

"What's your name?" A.J. asked, walking out from behind Spencer's legs. Sam opened her mouth to respond when she heard Rajesh calling to her.

"Sam!" He walked toward her, a phone in hand, "Big Guy is on the phone. Last minute party stuff."

"Tell him to hold on just a sec, Raj." She turned back to Spencer and AJ.

"You're Sam!" AJ screamed, his whole face lighting up.

"Yep…" she leaned down and whispered to him, "but sometimes they call me trouble too." She stood and smiled at Spencer. "Cute kid! He's one of the kids you work with?"

"What? Oh, no, A.J. is my…"

"I knew it!" AJ tugged on Sam's shirt, demanding her attention. "I just knew it!"

"Knew what, little man?" Sam asked before looking to Spencer. "And what were you trying to say?"

Spencer put a hand on AJ's shoulder, trying to calm the little boy who was dancing in a circle telling them he'd 'known it all along'.

"I was just gonna say that AJ is…" Spencer was cut off as AJ took off running past Sam.

"Daddy!" AJ cried.

Sam looked up at Spencer, confused.

"I was trying to tell you. A.J. – he's my godson. Andrew Jared…Benson"

Sam's mouth went dry. She knew she recognized those eyes, those gorgeous brown eyes. They'd looked so familiar. Rajesh walked up to stand beside her.

"Sam?" he asked, concerned, "are you okay?"

Sam tried to shake her head, but it seemed she'd suddenly lost the ability to move. Over her shoulder she heard AJ's voice.

"I told you daddy. I told you she wasn't with the angels. And she's even prettier than the pictures."

"Who's his dad, Spencer?" Sam whispered. She didn't really expect an answer. She didn't really need one. She knew.

Sam turned away from Spencer and towards a voice that in all this time she'd never forgotten.

"Sam?"

* * *

><p><strong>AN 2:**

**Cliffhanger! Well, not really…I'm sure you know who's just arrived on the scene.**

**Just as an FYI, I'm taking a short break to work solely on my novel. I worked really hard to get this chapter out to you before then but I won't be updating again for at least a week and a half. So while I appreciate that people like the story I'm asking nicely that no one send me PM's asking when I'm going to update. I promise I'm not done with this story and I will update as soon as I can. The PMs just make me feel bad about the wait.**

**Looking for Victorious or Glee stories? Check out irshgirl – I'm loving her story 'Hearts Don't Lie'. **

**So what did you think? Loved it? Hated it? I won't know if you don't review.**


	7. This We Ask  Part 1

**A/N:**

**Hello readers! Long time no...write, right? Sorry for the delay but I think you're gonna like where we're goin'.**

**So…the new episodes. I have some definite feelings. Let's just say that I have more than once used the words 'troll', 'instigating' and 'Schneider' in the same sentence recently. Further thoughts will be included at the end of the next chapter. Moving on…**

**When we last left our favorite couple things were sort of up in the air, huh? I'd have given a dollar to be a fly on the wall in that alley…wait, I sort of was wasn't I? Hope you all liked it. My short break from writing was very productive. Stay tuned, I'll be posting a link to a private wordpress site where you can visit, read my original fiction and leave comments and/or questions. You've all been so supportive of my writing here – I'd love to get your thoughts on other things as I'm working on them. And the break renewed my passion for this story and Summer of Love so be prepared – I'm about to kick the drama into overdrive. So, without further ado: **

**Benediction Chapter 7: This We Ask Part 1**

**XXOO-TheWrtrInMe**

* * *

><p><em>Last Time…<em>

"_Who's his dad, Spencer?" Sam whispered. She didn't really expect an answer. She didn't really need one. She knew._

_Sam turned away from Spencer and towards a voice that in all this time she'd never forgotten._

"_Sam?"_

* * *

><p>He recognized her. Even before he heard her voice. Even before he saw her face.<p>

It was like vertigo. He was jarred and unbalanced, like some small thread had been holding him to the ground and now the reality of seeing her had severed it and he was lost, desperate to find his footing.

The voices of the crew of volunteers echoed off the tall brick walls of the alley, joining the sounds of the busy Seattle street behind him. Noise swirled around him but in the five feet of space between him and Sam, the world had gone eerily silent. He swallowed back against the words that rushed to the edge of his lips. There were six years' worth of accusations and questions, six years' worth of rejection-soaked barbs, and if she didn't say something soon or move from the spot she seemed glued to he was going to release it all on her.

"Hey, Freddie."

Her reply was so normal it sent hot, irrational anger lightning fast straight through him. She was greeting him like she'd just seen him yesterday! Like she'd gone to the store for milk and come right back, not taken a hacksaw to his heart, then hopped a plane and disappeared.

He didn't answer her. He still didn't trust his ability to control what he'd say. He just stood and surveyed the woman in front of him, trying to reconcile the contradiction of emotions running through him.

'_She left us. She's the enemy'_ his brain screamed, but his heart disagreed and sang out _'She's here! Finally here! The only woman we've ever wanted to fight for.'_

"Daddy?" He looked down into the worried face of his son.

Freddie was ashamed to realize that for the space of a few minutes he'd completely forgotten A.J. was there.

"Yeah buddy," he said, watching from the corner of his eye as Sam stepped away to take a phone call.

"Daddy," A.J. lowered his voice as Freddie knelt beside him. "That's your friend Sam – only she's not your friend anymore, right?"

"Yeah," he looked over to where she stood, leaning against the alley wall. "That's … her."

A.J. leaned in to whisper before taking off down the alley toward Kayla. "She's even prettier than her picture."

Standing, Freddie walked toward Spencer, who looked as if he'd rather be anywhere but there.

"Hey Freddo." He said with mock enthusiasm, "How was the lecture?"

"It was alright." Freddie said, staring up at him. He turned and looked over his shoulder. Sam was still leaning against the alley wall, phone to her ear. A tall Indian man stood near her, glaring at Freddie.

"Who's that?" he asked, turning back to Spencer.

"That's, um, Raj, I think his name is. A, uh, friend of Sam's."

"So…"

"So…uh, weather's really nice today."

"Really Spencer? You're gonna stand here and talk about the weather?" Freddie hissed under his breath. "What the hell is _she _doing here?"

Spencer closed his eyes slowly, shaking his head. This had to be the most uncomfortable situation he'd ever been in; one that he had really hoped to avoid.

"Listen Freddie, I only told you she was here because I didn't want you to be shocked, you know, in case you ran into her. But maybe you should ask _her_ why she's here."

"Are you serious?" he said, loud enough to cause several of the volunteers passing them to look their way in confusion. Lowering his voice he walked closer to Spencer. "If you haven't noticed in the last _six years_, Sam isn't exactly forthcoming with me about what she does…or where she goes." He narrowed his eyes, "So cut the shit and tell me what the hell is going on here!"

"Um, Spencer?"

Freddie shut his eyes tight. Her voice. It made his chest tight and he felt lightheaded. He hated that she had that effect on him – or _any_ effect on him.

"Hey kiddo," Spencer said, looking around Freddie to where Sam stood.

"I, um, gotta go but I'll call you tomorrow. We can do lunch?"

"Sure Sam, I'll be here tomorrow too, but I can take a break and meet you somewhere."

"Alright. well, I'll see you then." She didn't move and Freddie knew she was waiting, trying to decide if she should say something – waiting to see if he would speak first. "Right. So, bye then. Uh, nice seeing you Freddie."

He was silent, eyes still shut as he heard her retreating footsteps. Every step she took pulled on him, yanking his heart toward her while his intellect resisted. Even after all this time her presence spoke to something inside of him, made him crave the feeling of being near her. But another part of him, the part that had been rejected, broken and confused for six years, wanted to show her that she didn't matter to him anymore – even if it was a lie.

Before he could stop himself or put a leash on his traitorous heart he turned on one heel and started down the alley behind her.

"Sam! Wait!"

_Great, now what are you gonna say you idiot? _He had no idea, but now he had to say _something_.

She paused at the entrance of the alley and said something to her friend, who looked back at Freddie with narrowed eyes before grabbing keys from Sam's hand and walking out onto the street. He saw her shoulders rise then fall as she turned to face him. She was nibbling the corner of her mouth. And in that one almost imperceptible movement, he suddenly recognized the Sam of six years ago – his Sam, who would do that if she was nervous. The Sam who stared back after kissing him at the lock-in. And who stared back the night he first told her he loved her. Always with that same look, the same corner of her mouth tucked in – as if she were fighting to believe him. The realization that he wasn't the only one affected by this meeting made him slow his gait.

_Let her sweat._

When he finally reached her, neither of them spoke immediately. They were two prizefighters circling the ring, assessing the opponent, trying to determine their weak spots and when, or if, to exploit them.

"So," she said, pushing a stray lock of hair out of her face. He forced himself not to follow the curl as it draped itself over her shoulder. Her hair – it had always been one of the things he loved most about her. She'd grown it out. It fell to the small of her back and he balled up his hands in fists, willing his fingers to stop tingling with the desire to run through it.

"So," he replied.

"How have you been, Freddie?"

'_Horrible. Miserable. Confused. Unable to move beyond where I was six years ago thanks to you.'_

"Fine. You?"

'_I thought I was okay until you showed up with your adorable son and your beautiful eyes and now I'm confused and really wish I could hop a plane back to Goa.' _ She suppressed the urge to cry, and hoped she could keep that up as long as she was in front of him.

"Great."

"That's good."

"Yeah it is, I mean, it's good for you, you know…that you're fine."

This was ridiculous. They'd had a million conversations in the time they'd known each other, and now they were making small talk like two people in the 15 items or less line at the grocery store. They had become strangers.

But they weren't strangers. Regardless of how long it had been, the woman standing in front of him was familiar. Studying her face was like remembering a song you'd once loved. The longer it played the more the words came back to you, like you'd just heard it yesterday. She looked older. No one would mistake her for eighteen anymore, the way they had before she left. And she'd lost that way of standing that said 'you do not want to mess with me.' There were tiny differences here and there, but he knew that if she turned her head just a little to the right, there'd be a little freckle behind her ear, and if he ran a finger over it she would shiver. His eyes traveled down her body and rested on her knee, where a small faded scar was in exactly the place he remembered. She'd cut herself trying to crawl out of his window onto the fire escape. Their fire escape. No, she may have left, and she may have changed, but he wasn't sure he could call her a stranger.

"Your son," she said, softly, "he's really adorable." _It's the way I always assumed our son would look._

"Oh, um, thanks."

"He looks a lot like you – but like his mom too."

"Yeah, he…wait. What did you say?"

Only then did it hit her: she'd said too much. From the minute she found out that A.J. was Freddie's son, she'd never doubted that his mother was the beautiful auburn-haired woman she'd seen Freddie with five years ago. The hints of red in his brown hair, the shape of his face, the dusting of freckles over his nose. She could have been wrong, but something in her gut told her that she wasn't.

But saying it to Freddie was an awful mistake. As far as he knew, she'd left Seattle and hadn't been back. That's what she made Spencer lead him to believe. Her little visit five years ago had been a secret – one that he was never to know about. In three seconds, with seven little words, her big mouth had ruined it. All that work of concealing it from him, and maybe even from herself, wasted.

"Oh, I just mean that he, you know…must look a lot like his mom." She risked a look at his face and saw the familiar questioning in his eyes. It was too late. He didn't believe her. Which made sense – since she _was_ lying, and not nearly as well as she used to. Over time, he had learned to tell when she was lying. She needed to get out of there – fast. "Listen Freddie, it was really nice to see you but I, uh, have some stuff I need to take care of so…I better get going." He stood still, studying her face but not speaking. She stuffed her hands into her front pockets and turned around. "Take care of yourself."

Before he could react, she was gone, disappearing around the corner. Once again, she had run away preemptively.

He turned around, thumbs shoved into his front pockets, and headed back toward the center of the alley where Spencer was standing, staring down at his clipboard.

At Freddie's approach, he raised his head and gave Freddie a tight-lipped grin.

"So…"

"No more talking about the weather, Spence."

Spencer sighed and leaned his back against the jagged alley wall. "What do you want me to say Freddie?"

"The truth this time."

"The truth about what?"

Freddie shook his head. "Spencer, come on! What's the story with Sam? Why is she here?"

"Why didn't you ask Sam that?"

"Are you kidding me?" Freddie said, his voice rising, "The girl I was in love with for half my life just up and left and for six years and I hear nothing Spencer, nothing! So she shows up and all of a sudden I'm supposed to ask her why she's here? I'm supposed to think she's suddenly gonna tell me anything after years of silence?"

"Freddie…"

"No, Spencer! All this time you keep giving me lists of what you can't tell me. You can't tell me _where_ she went. You can't tell me _why_ she went. You can't tell me if she's ever coming back and I was 'good guy' Freddie who sat back and said nothing! That shit stops now Spence!" He screamed. He knew he was being absurd. All of this anger was misplaced. His face was flushed, his hands in tense fists at his sides. He was furious and as much as he wanted to believe that it was because Spencer hadn't told him why Sam was here, he knew that wasn't it. As he stood glaring at the man who had been a brother to him for most of his life he wanted to blame him – he'd known Sam was going to be here. He'd known where she'd gone and why and he'd never told Freddie anything. But that wasn't why he was mad – though it was a reasoning that was much easier to swallow than the truth like a murky river beneath his feelings.

Sam was back – and his heart was breaking all over again.

He walked over to the wall and slid down it, sitting with his head hung over his knees – exhausted. He couldn't deal with this - any of it. He'd worked so hard to exorcise the love he'd had for her. He'd lost so much because he couldn't. And now she was here.

Spencer sat down on the hard ground beside him. Neither of them spoke at first and when Spencer finally did, his voice was soft as he stared straight ahead.

"Sam works for an international organization that helps rescue girls from sex trafficking. It's called GirlForce. She's some sort of hot shot, helps run the whole thing. She's been with them for six years – ever since she left. I can't tell you why she went, or why she chose them. That's her story to tell, if she decides to. But she's here on a fundraising tour. She's going to be speaking tonight…at the Gala."

Freddie head shot up.

"What?"

"The Gala. She's speaking there tonight."

Freddie groaned, shaking his head. This just got worse and worse. "Spencer, please tell me there's some other Gala going on tonight."

"And not the one you're going to?" he shook his head, reaching out to pat Freddie on the shoulder. "Sorry kid."

Freddie stared out of the alley where Sam had been standing just minutes ago. Yesterday life hadn't been perfect but it made sense. He'd had a job he loved, a son he loved, a life that, while void of much excitement, was comfortable in its evenness. He'd also managed to take the pain of six years ago and tuck it away so that he was able to function without being crippled. In a matter of twenty-four hours, it felt like everything had changed. He still had a great job, and an even greater kid, but suddenly the calm veneer of his life was shattered. The cover of the nice, neat little box in which he'd tucked his past away had been unceremoniously ripped off the moment he'd laid his eyes on Sam again. Now there was no hiding from the feelings he'd tried so hard to ignore, or the woman he'd tried so hard to forget.

"I don't believe this is happening," he mumbled.

But it was.

And there was absolutely nothing he could do about it.

* * *

><p>She sat down hard in the driver's seat, immediately dropping her head onto the steering wheel. Her hands, gripping the wheel at ten and two, were shaking and she was failing in her effort to slow her breathing.<p>

She was rattled.

"Sam…what the hell…"

"Not now Raj," she mumbled. "Please."

She sat with her forehead on her hands, trying hard to slow her racing heart, focus her thoughts, keep herself from screaming. She felt Raj shift beside her and his hand ran softly up and down her back. She tensed under his touch. She wished that she could just melt into it, allow herself to feel better for just a minute, and accept this touch from a man she knew just wanted to make her happy. A man who wouldn't stand in front of her, staring at her like he wished she was anyone else. A man whose eyes didn't accuse her or rake over her with thinly veiled hate. But she couldn't and she wasn't ready to think about why.

She sat up sharply and Raj withdrew his hand. She looked over at him as she started the car. The hurt was plain in his eyes, but he offered her a smile.

"So that was…him," Raj said as Sam pulled away from the curb.

"Yep." It was all she could say.

It was quiet in the car but she felt the side of her face burn as Raj stared at her.

"You can do better."

The statement made her angry, though she wasn't altogether sure why. Maybe it was the fact that Raj didn't know Freddie, didn't know that for most of her life she'd felt exactly the opposite way. No one was perfect she knew. Freddie had his issues just like the rest of the world – he tended to be judgmental and stubborn at all the wrong times. But under all of that Freddie, the Freddie she'd fallen in love with before she even knew for sure what that meant, was someone she'd never felt quite good enough for.

Her hands tensed on the steering wheel but she stared straight ahead and said nothing.

"What's with American men and that spiky shit at the front of their heads?"

Raj launched into a tirade on everything that was wrong with American men in general and Freddie in particular. It annoyed her like an insistent fly buzzing at her ear. She just wanted him to shut up. She didn't want to think about Freddie at all – good or bad. She wanted this whole thing to go away. She just wanted to get through this stupid Gala, pack up, and head back to Goa, where her life made sense.

"And the dress shirts with sneakers? Is that supposed to be cool?" he laughed, "A gentleman on top and a farmer on the bottom. I mean…"

"Raj!" she said, slamming the brakes at the stoplight in front of their hotel. "Just stop it okay! Just stop! This crap is hard enough without you making it worse!"

Raj sat back, looking stricken. "Sam, I was just…"

"Trying to make me feel better – I know." She drew a shaky breath. "And I appreciate it, I do. But what you're doing isn't making it better. I just want to forget it, do what we came to do, and go home. So just…let's just not talk about it okay?"

"But…"

"No buts Raj! Please!" she lowered her voice and pulled slowly into the parking garage as the light turned green. "Just drop it okay, can you do that… for me?"

Raj sighed heavily, his shoulders slumping. She felt bad to be so harsh with him. She and Raj rarely fought. She knew that he was only trying to help and he thought that bashing Freddie would do it. But it was the last thing she needed. Thinking of him, even if it was thinking the worst of him, still required her to allow him into her mind – and that was just a step away from her heart. She couldn't do it, it was too hard.

Raj said nothing, shifting in his seat so his body turned away from her as he stared out the passenger's side window; it was his childish way of letting her know she'd hurt his feelings. She pulled into the parking garage and they exited the car in silence. He was still silent as they rode up in the elevator and walked through the lobby. They did not utter a word as they walked down the hall to their rooms. As they came to his door and he slid his key into the card slot he was still silent, his jaw tense, eyes looking everywhere but at her.

"Raj."

"It's fine Sam. You don't want to talk about it. You don't want me saying anything – fine. You won't hear another peep out of me." He reached down grabbed the handle, opening the door to his room. "But if you think not talking about it will make it go away you're fooling yourself. You're not over him, and I think you may be the only one who doesn't know it." He walked into the room, not turning around to look at her. "I'll meet you in the lobby at seven."

The door closed behind him and Sam stood outside for a minute, waiting for the door to open again and Raj to be standing there, the smile she'd grown to love fill his face. But the door remained shut and finally she turned and headed across the hall to her own room.

She hoped this day would get better – because it couldn't possibly get worse.

* * *

><p>His finger fumbled at the two ends of fabric meant to become a bow tie that he had, so far, only managed to turn into a tangled mess. It was ridiculous – he'd tied bow ties before. He was an adult who went to these things often, even if under duress. Somehow, seeing Sam today had catapulted him back in time to when he was standing in front of the mirror as an acne prone teenager getting ready for prom, wishing he had a clip on tie.<p>

His brain was buzzing with a feeling of mental claustrophobia that comes when you are certain that you're headed for disaster and have no good idea of how to stop it.

He had options, he was almost sure of it.

_Call Liz and tell her he was too sick to go to the Gala._

That wouldn't work. Liz could sniff out a lie before it even left his mouth. But it wasn't exactly a lie. Since Spencer had told him Sam would be there tonight he'd felt a rising nausea that now made him feel like he might just throw up all over his tux.

_Go to the Gala, avoid Sam like the plague, and sneak out early._

Nope, after all these years it was still like metal to a magnet – even if he did his best to stay away from her he'd somehow wind up near her – pulled into her orbit.

He groaned, staring into his reflection in the bedroom's full-length mirror, and yanked the offending tie from around his neck. He was preparing to throw it across the room when the doorbell rang.

'_Great'_ he thought. The driver was early. Usually he hated it when Liz scheduled a driver for things like this, but getting through tonight would likely require some alcohol and he welcomed the idea of not having to drive.

Throwing the tie back around his neck, he grabbed the door and threw it open, prepared to tell the driver to wait at the curb until he was ready. What he saw on the other side of the door was no driver – and it took his breath away.

"When you get done staring I'd like to come in. Your pervy neighbor is staring again."

Freddie looked up as a door down the hall slammed. He moved to the side to let her pass, but still couldn't manage words.

"Mira?"

She walked to the center of the room and turned dramatically. "The one and only." She said, placing her hands on her hips. "You like?"

Like was an understatement. Mira was a beautiful woman, no one with eyes could deny that. And it was times like this that he realized just how much he'd lost when he lost her. She stood in front of him, her milky white skin squeezed provocatively into an emerald green strapless gown. She looked like she'd been wrapped in strips of green satin from her chest – which strained against its confines- to the floor, where a slit ran to the middle of her thigh. Nestled between the rise of her chest was the necklace Freddie had given her for her birthday the year A.J. was born – a diamond teardrop pendant. Her auburn hair tumbled down her back.

"You look amazing," he whispered.

"Only amazing?" she pouted and walked toward him, grabbing the two ends of fabric around his neck. "I was going for breathtaking, traffic stopping, life changing. Any of those would do." She made quick work of his tie and stepped back to give him a once over. "You look pretty good yourself. I mean, other than the look of abject terror on your face. Don't suppose this has anything to do with the return of a certain blonde, does it?"

"How did you know about that?"

"Spencer called me." Her smile was soft. As a general rule they didn't talk about Sam or the situation surrounding Sam. The one conversation they'd had was enough. Mira knew what it meant for Sam to be here. "How you holdin' up?" She walked to the sofa and sat down, patting the spot beside her.

He sighed and dropped into the seat beside her, putting his head in his hands. He wanted to try to look cool, like Sam being here wasn't affecting him – but he didn't have the ability, especially not with someone who knew him so well.

"I've been better." He said. Raising his head from his hands he looked over to her. "So, what are you doing here? I thought you said _not_ going to these things was a perk of not being with me."

"Well, let's just say I haven't quite gotten over my 'Rescue Freddie' complex." She laughed, reaching over to place her hand lightly on his arm. "I thought you might need a friend. And after all this time I figured you shouldn't have to meet her without some eye candy on your arm, so…here I am!" she laughed, "Plus, you can't blame me for wanting to see this girl with my own eyes."

He didn't blame her. In her shoes he'd likely do the same thing.

"What about A.J.?"

"Took him to your mom's. I have a feeling this evening will contain many, many drinks on both our parts. We can pick him up tomorrow."

He placed his hand over hers. "You really are the best Mira, I mean that."

"Yeah, yeah…so I've heard." She said, standing. "Now we better get this party moving. I saw the driver downstairs and told him we'd be right down."

Freddie stood and followed Mira to the door. He felt a little lighter – not because he'd been saved from an evening in the same room as a woman who set his whole body into a confusing swirl of feelings, but because he wouldn't have to do it alone.

Following Mira into the hall they entered the elevator.

"So…how was it, you know, seeing her again?"

"Sam?"

"No – the Queen of Sheba – of course Sam." Mira laughed but her eyes were questioning and filled with an old pain. "Did she…look different?"

"Um, she…she looks exactly the same."

"Still pretty."

"Mira…"

"What? I'm just making small talk." They both knew that wasn't true.

What was he supposed to say to that? How was he supposed to set Mira at ease when just the thought of seeing Sam again made his whole world feel unbalanced? Yes – Sam was still pretty, prettier if it were possible. Her face still made him wish he could sit somewhere undetected and study it, memorizing every feature.

Mira and Sam had never met, but Sam's memory was enough to cause a rift between him and Mira that neither could deny nor ignore. She was the elephant in every room Freddie and Mira stood in, the invisible line that divided them.

"Mira, you look absolutely beautiful. Breathtaking, life changing!" he said, and he meant it.

"That's better." She laughed, "I just wanted to make sure Sam and I were…equally matched."

"It's dinner Mira, not a war." He laughed as they exited the elevator.

But he wasn't so sure that was true.

* * *

><p><strong>I have been honored to be invited to join The Cabal. They are a very cool group of folks and it's already been an interesting ride (thanks for the tiara Pigwiz…I wear it daily).<strong>

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	8. This We Ask Part 2

**A/N: You know the drill. I don't own it. Hope you like it. If you do – review.**

**Chapter 8 – This We Ask Part 2**

**XXOO - TheWrtrInMe**

* * *

><p>Staring at the high stone steps leading to the entrance of The Seattle Art Society Building, Freddie felt he must know what it felt like to walk The Last Mile. He was a man surrounded on one side by a warden in green satin who was leading him against his will to the room where it would all end. Every step felt more impossible to take than the last, every breath, difficult.<p>

Dead Man Walking.

Mira, several stairs ahead, turned on the landing to look at him, rolling her eyes impatiently. When he finally reached her, her face twisted into a frown as she half walked, half dragged him into a dark corner near one of the massive pillars near the entrance. Standing in front of him she placed her hands on either side of his face.

"You listen to me, Fredward Benson. You have got to get out of your own head! You're freaking out and I get it, I do. This…woman, is a big part of your past. But that's just it. She's your past, right?"

He nodded, realizing that his answer was a lie.

"She's just a person. She's not some ninja that's going to wrestle you to the ground!"

'_Of all the things to call her. She doesn't know Sam'_ he thought, smiling for the first time since they'd entered the limo.

"Now we're going to go in here and have dinner. You're going to put a smile on your face and act like you're having the best time in the world. We're going to get drunk and then go home and you'll never have to see her again. Got it?" He was silent as Mira's hands gripped him, "I said…Got it?"

"Yeah…I got it. Dinner. Drunk. Home. I got it."

"Alright, now let's go in here and make this chick wish she'd never left."

He followed behind Mira, trying his best to plaster a smile on his face, even if that was a lie too.

* * *

><p>So far, so good.<p>

She'd been here for thirty minutes and thanks in part to the glass of champagne she'd guzzled down on arrival, her nervousness had abated considerably, replaced with laughter that she was trying desperately to suppress as Raj whispered a running commentary on the more flamboyant Gala attendees. The worst offender so far was a woman sitting immediately to Sam's right. She'd spent the last fifteen minutes telling everyone at the table about her cats – Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum. Mistaking everyone's polite comments for interest, she'd produced a picture of the animals she called her 'children,' all dressed up as Chihuahuas for Halloween.

As if that wasn't bad enough, the woman had somehow managed to pour her ample frame into a chiffon strapless gown that was a violent shade of neon green Sam was sure she'd never witnessed in nature. Topping it all off was a tiny pillbox hat covered in white feathers with a small bird perched at its edge. Raj had taken to calling her 'The Bird Lady.' In less nerve-wracking circumstances, and with less alcohol in her system, she might have told him he was being rude, but at the moment it was just about the funniest thing she'd ever seen. And it took her mind off of … less pleasant things.

She was rapidly losing the battle with suppressing her laughter when Raj's voice turned serious.

"Put your arm around my neck and pretend I just said something really romantic!"

"What?"

"Just do it!" he hissed, "You'll thank me for it later."

She put an arm around his neck and leaned in close, though she was fairly sure the look on her face was one of confusion more than romance.

"Raj, if this is a tactic to get in my pants, I think you're getting a little rusty." She started to laugh but it was interrupted by the arrival of two new guests at their table.

"Good evening," the woman said. "Everyone having a good time?"

Across the table, next to the only two empty chairs stood a woman so beautiful Sam suddenly felt as if she'd come to the Gala in a burlap sack with matching hat. She knew that face, had nightmares about it more times than she cared to remember. But even if she didn't recognize the woman, she'd never forget the face of her companion. Brown hair spiked up just the tiniest bit in the front, deep brown eyes that were, at the moment, boring a hole into her. Freddie. And his perfect girlfriend.

"Waiter!" Raj flagged down one of the passing servers. "We're going to need more champagne."

Fabulous.

* * *

><p>'<em>Get a room'<em> he thought as he stared across the table at Sam who was practically climbing into the lap of Rap or Rag or whatever in the hell his name was. The guy was whispering something in Sam's ear now. It must have been pretty funny because she was laughing hard, a blush rising in her cheeks. They were probably laughing at him.

'_Oh look! It's your loser ex-boyfriend Freddie who showed up with his ex-girlfriend. You know, the one he couldn't marry because he can't get over you. It's kinda pathetic.'_

"Good evening! Everyone having a good time?" Mira was so good at these things. Even in the middle of quite possibly the most uncomfortable moment ever, she managed to look calm and gracious, smiling at everyone at the table, including Sam.

Sam stopped mid-laugh and jerked her head in his direction. The look on her face was a cross between anger and confusion, and suddenly Freddie realized she hadn't known he'd be here tonight. Something about that felt good. He might be nervous, but he'd had the benefit of a whole afternoon to get used to the idea of seeing her again. This turn of events was a shock to her – sure to throw her off balance. He smirked at her and her 'date.'

'_Get a grip Benson'_ he thought. After six years he'd lost any claim he'd ever had to be rightfully jealous of what (or who) Sam did or didn't do. But regardless of what his rational mind was saying, getting a handle on his jealousy was like trying to wrestle a pig in mud – nearly impossible.

He felt Mira jerk his hand and tore his eyes away from the spectacle Sam and her smooth-talking foreign dude were making of themselves. He moved to sit down, then noticed Mira still standing beside her chair. He stood again, pulled out her chair, then tried not to curse as he sat down in his own.

He heard Mira clear her throat and turned to face her. The look she was giving him said he'd be getting earful about this later tonight. Great. Stuck with Sam and her obnoxious companion now, stuck with an angry Mira later. Reaching onto the tray of a server as they passed him, he grabbed two flutes of champagne, drinking both before noticing Mira's outstretched hand.

'_Shit. I probably should have given one of those to her.'_

The table was silent, save the constant chattering of a woman in a hideous green dress sitting beside Sam. As the minutes ticked by the tension built, none of the four addressing the others directly, instead shooting gazes across the table even as they pretended to ignore one another. He knew he should say something but his mouth wouldn't open. Finally Sam saved him the trouble.

"So, uh, Freddie…I didn't know you'd be here tonight." She sat staring over at him and though he couldn't see her hands, he knew she was wringing them under the table. It was her tell-tale sign that she was nervous. Some things you never forget.

"I guess it was a day of surprises for everyone then, huh?" He couldn't keep the venom out of his voice and surprised himself with his rudeness. He was being an ass and he knew it – but he just couldn't stop himself.

Sam sat back with a sigh, looking over at her date who smiled at her softly before silently turning angry eyes on Freddie. This man, this stranger's quiet defense of Sam, only made Freddie angrier. It used to be his job to give those looks, his job to defend her. But it wasn't his job anymore and there was only one person at this table to blame.

Somewhere in the middle of their quiet standoff the other guests at the table had left – even ugly dress lady - and now the silence was all the more awkward. Mira was smiling her fakest smile at Sam while Sam stared down into her lap. Raj's eyes, narrowed to slits, were raking over Freddie as Freddie stared over at Mira.

"So," Mira said, breaking into the silence. "I guess introductions are in order?" she stood and leaned over the table, extending a hand to Raj, "I'm Mira Wilson."

"Raj," he said, never taking his eyes from Freddie, "Rajesh Patel."

Mira shook Raj's hand and turned to Sam, who lifted her eyes and stretched her hand to Mira's.

"And I'm…"

"Samantha Puckett. I know who you are." Mira's smile never left her face but her words were like ice. "I've heard a lot about you," she said, taking her seat beside Freddie, turning her body toward his as she placed a hand on his arm.

"Oh," Sam said, looking from Mira to Freddie and back again. "Okay, well…um, nice to meet you, Mira." She turned to Raj, "And, uh, Raj…you remember Freddie, Freddie Benson." She looked back at Freddie, "He's an…old friend."

Freddie smirked and tried not to roll his eyes. Old friend? That was rich! He looked over at Raj, neither man bothering to shake hands. No need for pretense.

The next forty minutes were some of the most excruciatingly uncomfortable ones of his life. Raj rambled on and on about Sam's work in India.

_Sam is so valuable to what we do_

_We couldn't do any of this without Sam_

_Sam the most amazing woman I've ever met_

_Sam's been declared Supreme Potentate of the World and you must all now bow and kiss her feet._

It was nauseating. It wasn't so much hearing her accomplishments. He had to admit that he was shocked and impressed to hear what she'd been doing since leaving Seattle. She'd never really been one for hard work or discipline – at least not when she was with him. But something about being in India had obviously changed her. When Raj mentioned the girls she worked with her eyes lit up and he could tell she loved them, and what she did for them. If he hadn't been so angry and confused, he might have congratulated her or asked her questions about her work. But as it stood, listening to this dude prattle on about how wonderful he thought she was, he wanted to tell her that if it was so wonderful back there maybe she should return – now!

He couldn't do that though because, as hard as it was to admit, even in anger being around her soothed something inside of him. He didn't want her to leave. But the guy sitting next to her could leave at any time and it'd be fine by him. That's what was so hard. He was hearing about Sam's accomplishments from someone who'd been there; who'd seen them first hand. She'd changed, become this successful person, parts of whom he no longer recognized but Raj – he knew her, was acquainted with this new Sam in a way that made jealousy boil in Freddie's veins.

And then there was Mira. He wished they'd had some discussion on what she'd planned to do tonight, since it was obvious now that she did, indeed, have a plan. And apparently it involved talking at length about her, Freddie and A.J. and all the amazing adventures they'd had 'as a family.' Judging from the look on Sam's face, she was about as excited to hear Mira's stories as he'd been to hear Raj's. Neither he nor Sam said a word as Raj and Mira duked it out for 'most annoying storyteller'.

Just as Mira launched into yet another story of one of their trips to the beach (he couldn't even remember it and wondered if she'd made it up) a petite brunette in black, a headset at her ear, approached the table.

"Excuse me Ms. Puckett. The presentations are about to begin, won't you follow me?"

Freddie and Sam both breathed a sigh of relief.

It was the end of the awkward – for now anyway.

Sam pushed her chair away from the table and he could appreciate for the first time just how gorgeous she looked. Angry or no, there was no denying that Sam was even more beautiful now than when he'd known her six years ago. Her dress was a deep blue that made her eyes sparkle – he'd always loved that color on her. And the way the fabric of her dress hugged her curves. He'd forgotten just how amazing her body was.

He felt Mira kick him in the shins under the table as she leaned in to whisper in his ear.

"Keep staring and I'll poke your eyes out myself, Benson."

He got the hint and tore his eyes away. But not before seeing Raj squeeze her hand, giving her an assuring look as she headed toward the platform.

"Good luck," he said.

Those two words turned like a knife in his gut. Those two words said Raj was the one supporting her, cheering for her, believing in her. Those two words said she'd found someone to lean on – and it wasn't Freddie. He'd been replaced.

* * *

><p>When she'd walked onto the stage. she'd been sure she was going to fail. Feeling a roomful of eyes on her, knowing that two of those eyes were filled with indifference, she'd felt her knees shaking before she'd even reached the podium. But as the lights lowered and the large screen behind her filled with the faces of the girls of GirlForce, she realized that no matter what happened between her and Freddie here, no matter how it made her feel or what decisions it made her question, she had a job to do and a school full of amazing young women who were depending on her. That truth had made the presentation easy. She'd shared her heart, told stories of the girls who'd been sold into slavery-some of them by their own family. She told of the rescue missions, the girls, some as young as four, who came to GirlForce broken in body and spirit. She told the room that she'd gone to Goa trying to make a difference in their lives but found that they were the ones changing hers. She appealed to them to do what they could, all that they could, to make sure that no girl, in India or elsewhere, would have to live a life where they were bought and sold to the highest bidder. She asked them to help the workers of GirlForce ensure that these horrific stories had a happy ending. She'd cried, not as an emotional display to pull on their heartstrings but because the last twenty four hours had been so hard and talking about her girls felt like going home. It made her remember who she was.<p>

When she was done, the applause was deafening and the entire room was on its feet, many of the women, and some of the men, dabbing at teary eyes. But there was only one set of yes she found in that crowd. Dark pools of brown that looked directly into hers with tears of their own. And for some reason those tears were harder to handle than all of the anger that had come before. She'd torn her eyes away from his, whispered her thanks into the microphone and taken her seat on the stage with the rest of the night's presenters.

Now that the dinner and the presentations were over, the band had started to play as the lights in the room were lowered and the real party was beginning.

"You did amazing!" Raj whispered in her ear as she stepped off of the stage. "Nash would be really proud."

"Thanks, Raj," she said, smiling up at him.

It was almost over now. Almost time to go back to the hotel and then back to Goa. The very thought made her giddily happy.

She'd spent an intensely uncomfortable thirty minutes at the table with Freddie and his perfect girlfriend, listening to her talk about her fancy job and their adorable kid. She'd heard all the places they'd travelled and rolled her eyes at the obvious inside jokes she cracked. The whole time she hadn't said a word.

When it was finally time for her to take the stage, she'd almost cried in relief. Even standing in a room full of strangers delivering a speech she wasn't quite sure she'd remember all the words to was a vast improvement over sitting in the middle of debilitating awkwardness with Raj, Freddie and the future Mrs. Benson.

Now she stood with Raj at the edge of the room, sipping champagne and keeping an eye on Freddie and Mira inconspicuously. They were on the other side of the room. Mira had her arm looped through Freddie's and was all smiles as she talked to the group they were standing with. Every male in the group stared at her like the last glass of water in a desert wasteland. Sam rolled her eyes and took another drink of champagne.

"You're prettier than her you know," Raj said matter of factly. "I bet that's not even her real hair color."

"Raj…"

"What? I'm just saying? And if she told me one more story about them taking that kid to the beach to make sandcastles I was going to throw up. We get it…you're a little family."

"Not now Raj, okay?"

"Okay, okay." He said, silent for less than a minute before starting in again. "But don't you find it interesting that she did all that talking and he didn't say a word?"

"Freddie's quiet…he's always been like that," Sam said softly.

"Are you defending him?" Raj raised an eyebrow.

"What? No! I'm just saying that being quiet…that's just…Freddie."

"And is it just Freddie to stare at you like a piece of steak all night too?"

"He wasn't staring at me!"

"How would you know? You were too busy glaring at Miss Not-A-Natural-Redhead to notice."

Sam shook her head and wondered how many glasses of champagne Raj had consumed. He was laughing as he spoke, but just under the surface was something else. Something that, if left unchecked, was not going to help this night end well.

She turned to face Raj, taking the champagne flute from his hand and setting it on a table beside them. "Maybe it's time to head back to the hotel."

"Leaving so soon?" A deep voice addressed her from behind. She spun on her heel and came face to face with Freddie.

"Oh, yeah…Raj isn't feeling so well so…"

"I feel just fine!" Raj said defiantly.

"So you're staying?" Freddie asked.

"No," Sam said, "We've got an early flight and …"

"Hey party people," Mira walked up beside Freddie, looking down at Sam. "What's going on?"

"Sam and Raj were just leaving." Freddie said, never taking his eyes from Sam's.

"So soon?" Mira smiled, "I guess we should be going too, have to go and pick up A.J. from his grandma's. We're taking him out for a family…"

"Oh my God woman, not another family outing story! Please!" Raj said, and Sam realized that whatever the amount of alcohol he'd consumed, it had been too much.

"Excuse me!" Mira said, putting a hand to her hip. "How dare you talk to me like that!"

"How dare you assume we all want to hear your boring 'family' stories! You and Freddie are together…we get it. No need to beat Sam over the head with it!"

"Raj…" Sam warned, stepping closer to him, searching for the nearest exit. The current situation couldn't end well any way it was sliced. The best thing she could do was to make a hasty exit and pray no one over heard them.

"Me! You're the ones practically drooling in each other's mouths when we got here. You're with Sam, we get it. No need to beat _Freddie_ over the head with it!" Mira's voice was loud enough to draw attention to their little circle of chaos, her face flushed, eyes flashing. "But I warn ya," she said turning her blazing eyes on Sam, "I wouldn't get too attached – I hear she's a runner."

Sam drew in a breath and stepped back as if she'd been slapped.

"Mira!" Freddie's voice was loud and commanding. Mira had gone too far. And though there had been hundreds of times in the last twelve hours when he'd wished he could say something similar, it didn't feel right for Mira to do it. She didn't know Sam, not the way he did, not the way he had. "That's enough!"

"_Now_ you've got something to say!" Raj, took a step towards Freddie. "She sat all night taking jabs at Sam and you a freaking deaf mute. _Now_ all the sudden you're running in on your white horse to save her? Well I've got news for you, mister 'My hair is spiky so I must be cool,' she doesn't need you to save her anymore. She's done just fine – _without_ you. Or did you not get that hint when she left?"

Freddie's face was a furious shade of red as he whipped around toward Raj, the two men standing a breath away from each other. By now the attention of at least half the room was drawn to the four people in the corner. From the corner of her eye Sam saw an official looking man hurrying toward them.

Trying to calm the situation before they were all thrown out, she stepped in between Raj and Freddie, pushing them both back with her hands.

"Alright, enough with the pissing contest. Just stop!" she hissed, looking back and forth between them. "This is ridiculous." She turned to Raj, narrowing her eyes. "Raj, I don't need you to defend me. I don't need this drama. And I don't need you to speak for me."

"Now who needs to take a hint?" Freddie mumbled behind her.

"Enough!" she said, directing her statement at Freddie. "Both of you knock it off!" As Freddie stepped back she turned her eyes on Mira. "And as for you," she said quietly, her voice dripping with anger, "I don't care what Freddie told you or what you heard. You do not know who I am. You have no right to say anything about me. So I were you, I'd shut the hell up while I was ahead."

Freddie shook his head. Mira had never backed down from a fight – ever. And as far as he knew, neither had Sam. No matter how quietly Sam had just uttered that statement to Mira, it'd still be viewed as fighting words. This night had taken a nosedive, and there was no way it was going to recover.

Mira walked toward Sam. Using her height to her advantage, she stared down at the tiny blond who didn't move an inch. "I don't know you? Oh trust me, honey, I know everything I need to know about you, and to tell you the truth, nothing I know is worth either one of these guys fighting over you. So this tough girl act you've got going…you can save it, because we both know that underneath it all you're just a coward with a big mouth."

"Mira! Shut up!" The years-old instinct to protect Sam rose up in him before he could even give it a conscious thought and he stepped between the two of them, facing Mira. "Sam hasn't done anything to you so just…back off." The stricken look in Mira's eyes was quickly replaced with fury, and he wondered at the wisdom in his decision to say anything.

She laughed, a mirthless, hallow sound that set Freddie's teeth on edge.

"You're defending her? Are you kidding me?" Her eyes were filling, her shoulders tense. "I don't know why I'm shocked. I come second – always. First to the ghost of her, and now to the real thing." She turned to Sam. "Doesn't matter what I've done or what I do…it's always going to be you. It's always _been_ you. Do you know we were going to get married? I had a ring and a dress and my whole life planned, did you know that? Of course not, you were on another continent 'finding yourself.' And while you found yourself I lost everything!" Tears were streaming down her face that she didn't even bother to wipe, "Well you know what? I don't fucking need this." She whipped around so close to Freddie he could smell the champagne on her breath, feel her hair tickle the side of his face. "Just remember one thing while you're defending her, Freddie Benson, I'm not the one who broke your heart – she is."

With that she turned and fled the room.

"Is everything okay over here?"

Freddie, Raj and Sam turned to face a serious looking man who addressed them quietly while looking casting nervous glances around the room. The music was still playing but here and there all over the room people were turned toward them, whispering behind their hands, some outright pointing. Sam wanted to dissolve into the floor, right after chasing Mira out of the building and beating her senseless.

"We're fine. Sorry about… all of that." Freddie spoke to the man, shaking his hand and assuring him it had all just been a misunderstanding.

'_He's gotten much better at lying'_ Sam thought. There was no misunderstanding. Mira hated her, that much was clear. And the truth behind the words Mira had just said made her hate herself just a little.

"I've got to get out of here," she said. "I can't…I can't do this." She turned toward the exit door. Remembering Raj, she turned around, "Raj, are you coming?"

Raj nodded, giving Freddie one last venomous glance before walking toward her.

She was exhausted. This night had been a roller coaster and she wanted to get off. Raj walked beside her down the stone steps and wrapped an arm around her shoulder.

"Are you okay?" he asked. Before she could answer the sound of running footsteps interrupted them.

"Sam!" Freddie reached them, still flushed and slightly out of breath. "Wait!"

Sam considered just walking away, pretending she couldn't hear him, pretending that he hadn't come crashing back into her life uninvited and unannounced, changing everything. She couldn't do it. Sighing, she turned around to face him, ignoring the sound of Raj muttering under his breath.

"What is it Freddie? I think we've said everything that needs to be said."

"Are you kidding? You haven't said anything! How about why you left? Why don't we start there?"

"Freddie! I'm not going to deal with this – not in the middle of the sidewalk, not when I feel like, like this!"

"_You_ feel? You want me to be concerned with how _you _feel? How about what I feel? What I felt?"

"It's over Freddie, it's all…water under the bridge."

"No it's not Sam – I don't believe that and don't think you do either."

"Listen, dude – she said she doesn't want to talk, just drop it!"

"Raj! Not now," she said. "Please." Her eyes were pleading. Dealing with Freddie was hard enough. She didn't need Raj making it worse. Turning back to Freddie, she stared at the sidewalk, unable to meet his eyes. "What do you want me to say, Freddie? Whatever it is, I guarantee that even if I say it, my leaving still won't make sense. You'll still hate me and the ending will all still be the same. Can't you see that?"

"So that's it? That's all I get? Six years of silence and all you can give me is 'get over it'?"

"Freddie…"

"No, Sam. You're right. I was crazy to think that after all this time anything would be different. I guess some things never change, huh Sam? You were always good at running away. So I guess you might as well do what you do best."

"Freddie…"

"Just go, Sam." He looked at her, where she was rooted to her spot. "GO!" he screamed and she jumped back, steadied by Raj's arm around her as he led her to the car and settled her into the seat. She held it together just as long as it took Raj to close the door, and then the dam broke and she felt certain she'd never be able to put it back together again.

* * *

><p>Her small feet fell heavily against the hotel carpet as she paced. She was like a caged animal, anger coming off her in waves. She'd been mad before, but it had been a long time since she'd been mad enough to contemplate causing bodily harm. It felt foreign somehow, this prickly irritation like barbed wire on an open wound. She didn't like it. India had changed a lot of things about her. It had given her the ability, she thought, to reach inside herself and draw out tranquility no matter what was raging around her. That's what she'd thought, but in only an hour Freddie, his red-headed shrew of a date, and even Raj had managed to drive her to the very edge of her hard won peace and she'd felt it strain around her and then give way completely.<p>

Now she stood in the middle of the room, her hair ruined, her face stained with mascara and tears, wishing she'd never agreed – or allowed herself to be strong armed-into ever coming back here. She didn't belong here anymore, if she ever had. And nothing could have made that more clear than this disaster of an evening.

_I guess some things never change, huh Sam? You were always good at running away._

If she hadn't already embarrassed herself enough by leaving, she'd have turned around and punched him in the throat.

How dare he?

She bent over, arms tight over her stomach, holding herself against the answer she didn't want to hear. She knew why he dared – of course she did.

"_I'm not the one who broke your heart…she did."_

Mira. Her voice had been filled with venom, and something else. Pain. It was tangible and even if not directed at Sam, she'd still felt it. The biting cold of having loved completely and not having it returned in kind. Mira had loved Freddie, and she still did if looks could be believed. There was an easy familiarity around them. They shared a child and had shared a life at some point Sam was sure, even if it had obviously not been the one Mira wanted. And she'd ruined it.

Even from a world away she'd managed to hurt him and a woman she didn't even know. Even after all this time she was still making messes she was powerless to clean up.

How dare he?

Easy. She'd hurt him. Whatever her intention, however valid her reasons for leaving him and moving to another continent – it didn't matter. She'd still managed to leave collateral damage in her wake. It left a heavy weight of guilt and regret at the center of her that rang through her body and left her mind scrambling to find a justification, a reason she wasn't wrong. A reason to release herself from the responsibility of the pain in Mira's eyes, and the ache in Freddie's.

She was coming up empty handed.

She sat heavily on the edge of the bed. She wanted nothing more than to pack her bag, head for the airport, and take the next flight out. She longed for the smallness of the world she'd created for herself in Goa, for the regularity of her life there, the girls, the workers-she'd even take the glaring sun and choking humidity over this…this pounding, rage-tinged self-hatred she was feeling.

And it was only going to get worse. She was certain that Nash was going to hear about the little display she'd been a part of. Hear about the fact that she'd caused a scene and run from the Gala before it was even over. It didn't matter how well the presentation had gone, everything that came after it would drown out whatever good had come before. She'd always prided herself on being professional – on doing the job expected of her regardless of how she felt. In one night she might have undone all of that. She groaned and fought the nausea that set one too many glasses of champagne burning at the back of her throat. She'd needed to pull this off without a hitch. And behavior might have been enough for The Seattle Philanthropic Society to decide not to give GirlForce the money it so desperately needed. And if word of their disdain for GirlForce spread around the country, who even knew what the full effects could be? And it would all be her fault – hers and Freddie's.

She tried to slow her breathing, assess herself now, live in this moment and understand what she felt in it. Two years of yoga and being around Nash had taught her this. Deep breaths, in…out, repeat. Slow the pace of your heart. Center your thoughts. "_What are you feeling, Sam?"_ she asked herself through even breaths.

Hate?

No. She didn't want to hate him. Him or his – whatever she was to him. If she stared at that hatred straight on it morphed, shifting and changing until its bright red intensity faded into something less fiery.

Anger?

More likely, but not necessarily more rational. He'd been a jerk, so had Mira – and so had Raj for that matter, but she wasn't blind enough to her own part in this mess to believe that he wasn't at least partially justified. She'd left him, and while she didn't know the specifics, Mira's comment made it clear that somehow the damage she'd left had played a part in the ending of whatever it was they'd had. They both had a right to be angry.

But she did to – or at least it felt that way now. She'd moved on, as best as she could. She worked at fixing herself, at understanding who she was under all the mountain of unresolved issues she'd lived with all of her life. Was she perfect? Absolutely not, but she was trying – trying to make her life something to be proud of. She'd given Freddie permission to have a life outside of her. Told him to find someone who could love him the way she hadn't been capable of. Was it her fault that he hadn't done it? That he'd made a mess of his own?

Why couldn't he just get over it?

She knew the answer to that, and she hated the fact that suddenly, when she wanted most to crawl into the pattern of hatred and denial that she'd carefully perfected for the first twenty some years of her life, it evaded her, and with startling clarity she could see the answers – the truth.

He couldn't move on because in both big and small ways, she hadn't either. The feeling gnawing at her gut was proof.

Confusion, anger, sadness, the fact that she felt them, felt anything at all, was proof that she hadn't walked as far away from her past as she thought, that her reasons for leaving weren't as solid as she'd thought. Hate and love are really the same emotion. The opposite of both is indifference. What she wanted was that indifference—to feel nothing. To look across the table and smile at him, chat with Mira, hear about his fabulous life and his gorgeous son, and all the millions of ways his life had gone on without her and feel – nothing at all.

But that's not what had happened. From the first time she'd heard his voice this afternoon, she'd been struggling not to drown beneath the waves of memories it had sent crashing over her.

Confusion, sadness and-above them all – anger, cold and metallic anger tasting at the back of her throat. It gripped her despite her attempts to release herself, and the frustration of finding her old self still there—that tiny girl cowering beneath a weight of insecurity-was enough to bring fresh tears to her eyes that she was just too exhausted to fight.

She lay back on the bed and willed herself to sleep. At least in sleep whatever she confronted would be a dream. Reality was too much to take right now. As her eyes began to droop the far-off knocking she heard drew her back to the ugliness of real life. Someone was at the door.

It was probably Raj, and she decided to ignore it. She didn't have the strength to fight with him right now. She didn't trust what she might say, or what he might do.

The knocking continued, insistent, and she heard the door creak as whoever was on the other side leaned against it.

"Go away Raj!" she screamed.

Yet more knocking.

She rose from the bed and felt fury building beneath the exhaustion as she drew closer to the door. She looked a mess, felt a mess – but she didn't care. Let him see it. Let him see the train wreck she was and then maybe he'd understand why him loving her was a mistake. Why anyone loving her was a mistake.

She unlocked the door, flinging it open, prepared to release a torrent of misdirected wrath in Raj's direction.

"What the hell…" the words stopped in her throat and confusion rushed in.

"Hey Sam. Can I come in?"

Mira.

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><p><strong>AN2: Warning – Long author's note ahead…but it's pretty funny so… READ IT!**

**Mini-cliffhanger…sorry about that but this chapter was quickly approaching an annoyingly long length. I'm also sorry it took so long to update – my muse ran away, I've rented one, but it isn't nearly as helpful as the original. I'm gonna put up flyers this afternoon – drop me a line if you find it. But I don't hold out much hope, muses are notoriously good at moving about undetected. Until it returns I make no promises on how fast or slow this story will be updated. I'd love to say once a week – but you see what happened the last time I did that. Just know I have not abandoned it and will not do so – this story will be completed. We've got about 5 chapters to go.**

**Before I tell you my thoughts on the new episodes I must do some shout outs: I must do two things:**

**First – the iCarly Posse rocks like Stonehenge! They are my crazy, fan fic lovin' {FAM}ily – they know who they are.**

**Second- Irshgirl (MioneRachel). You are my kindred spirit in writing and tea and life in general. Y'all go read her stuff…like NOW.**

**Okay, so thoughts on iOwn a Restaurant. The good: it was a return to the iCarly humor of seasons 3 and 4 – loved that. Spencer's robot pelting Marissa was comic gold. Gibby as restaurant owner so deliciously ridiculous – I'd say something about hot meat here but it'd just sound skeevy. Sam actually beating someone with the butter sock – LOVED THAT! But then Sam Puckett can't do much wrong in my eyes. **

**Now for The Bad: WHAT THE HELL WAS WITH ALL THE CREDDIE! Okay, I am not a ship bashing fanbrat by far (though I do think Seddie makes the most sense from an entertainment standpoint. Creddie is pretty boring since Carly and Freddie are both...pretty boring) but my problem with it isn't that it's not Seddie. My problem with it was that Schneider spent all this time making us fall in love with gentlemanly, upstanding Freddie and now he's turning him into a skeezy, indecisive twatchop who switches out girls like Spencer switches out fire extinguishers! For him to go back to Carly is to tell us, the fans, that the elevator 'I love you' was just so he could get her to do whatever he got her to do in that last hour and a half that Nickelodeon wouldn't let us see. "Is it too late for you to love me?" Are you serious Benson? YES it's too late you jerkface! **

**Thank God that iWork for Pear (or whatever the official name was) sort of redeemed it Seddie wise. The Good – they FINALLY, FINALLY admitted that a relationship existed (I was starting to wonder if I dreamed the Seddie Arc – thanks Mr. Schneider!), and it was obvious that Sam was leaving to talk to Freddie (I think I almost felt my muse return in that moment!). The Bad – what is with Freddie (again) acting like an idiot! Does someone want us to hate him? Because if they do another couple episodes like that they just might get their wish.**

**Now that we know the show will be filming its last episode next month it looks like iCarly is officially in the home stretch. I will try not to waggle my finger and say 'I told you so' (but I did…tell you so I mean *finger waggle*)**

**Okay, rant over. What did you guys think of the episodes? Hop on over to twitter and lets discuss! (BlogFanfiction).**

**Read**

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**From fluff, to face melting angst.**

**The Cabal authors produce the best.**

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	9. This We Ask Part 3

**A/N:**

**So, my rental muse seems to working pretty well – so here you go, another chapter, and you only had to wait a week!**

**Special thanks to my pre-readers for this chapter: ThatSamGirl92, pigwiz, mionerachel and (of course) Dwyn Arthur. You guys are more help than you could possibly know. You are the mac to my cheese.**

**You know the drill – I don' t own it but if you like it leave me a review.**

**XXOO-TheWrtrInMe**

**Benediction Chapter 9 – This We Ask Part 3**

* * *

><p>"Mira?" Sam stood at the open door, not moving, her eyes dark and suspicious.<p>

"Hey Sam."

They stood staring at each other, neither saying a word, their most recent interaction still fresh in their minds. Only minutes ago, Mira had been sure that this was the right thing to do. After the disaster at the Gala she'd fled to the safety of her apartment and spent hours fighting herself. She was angry, hurt, and above all confused. After years of living in the shadow of a woman she'd never met, she'd finally set eyes on her. She'd spent the night trying to get under her skin, trying to find the crack in the armor of calm Sam seemed to wear, wanting to see her hurt. She wasn't usually like that. She despised catty women and strove for most of her life not to be one. Overnight she'd descended into the kind of behavior that normally turned her stomach and grated her nerves.

When sleep evaded her, she'd gotten up and paced her bedroom floor trying to justify her behavior. She had every right to be mad, didn't she? This was the woman who'd managed to ruin Mira's life from half a world away. But the longer she considered the situation, the more difficult it became to ignore the selfishness that beat at the very heart of her pain. But regardless of how Sam's actions had affected her, there was someone who hadn't just been hurt by them; he'd been crippled beyond her ability to fix.

Freddie.

All he had wanted was to get through the night and thanks to Mira, and Sam's idiot boyfriend, the night had probably ended far worse than he had even imagined. She'd tried calling him several times after she arrived home, taking a cab when she realized how awkward the ride with him would be, but every call went straight to voicemail. He was avoiding her.

She didn't blame him really. Regardless of how she felt about Sam personally, her behavior had been abhorrent. She'd had no right to say what she'd said, no right to take an already difficult situation and make it ten times worse. Apologizing wasn't something Mira did often or willingly. But this time there'd have to be an exception. She needed to talk to Sam, not only to apologize, but to speak a truth that no one else in this disaster of a situation seemed willing to say.

So, after a brief recap of the evening that was met with much sighing and scolding, she'd convinced Spencer to tell her where Sam was staying. He'd warned her that the Sam he knew might be less than pleased to see her and that she should probably tread lightly. Mira thanked him and headed over to the hotel, prepared to eat crow. But standing in front of the petite blonde, who looked angry enough to kill her and officiate at the funeral, Mira wondered if she'd made the right choice.

"I was hoping we could talk," she said. "Can I come in?"

Sam could think of few things she wanted less than to have a conversation with Mira at two o'clock in the morning.

"Look, Mira, it's late and I've had a really rough day." '_No small thanks to you_,' she thought. "I'm really not in the mood for a chat. Besides, I think you made yourself pretty clear earlier. What's left to say?"

She crossed her arms and stood in the center of the doorway, looking up at Mira.

"Listen…what happened earlier was…" she stopped short, the apology choking her. "I'm…I'm sorry okay. I was just so...God! Why is this so hard!" she said, running a hand through her hair. "Please, can I just come in? I think…we need to talk."

Sam studied the woman in front of her, puffy eyed with no make up, clad in a tank top and yoga pants as if she'd dressed in a hurry.

'_She looks the way I feel'_

Against her better judgment, she moved to the side to allow Mira to pass.

"Come on in," she said, praying that she wasn't about to star in 'The Wrath of Mira – Part Two: Leave No Witnesses'.

Shutting the door, she followed Mira into the room. Mira sat at the small table near the window and Sam walked past her into the suite's small kitchen, grabbed two glasses, and seated herself across from Mira at the table, a bottle of vodka between them. Reaching for it she poured two hefty servings and slid one glass across the table to Mira, who accepted it with an uneasy smile.

"You look like you could use this as much as me."

Mira took a sip from the glass and both women sat silently, drinking and eyeing each other over the tops of their glasses. Finally, unable to handle the tension that fell over them, Sam spoke.

"So…you wanted to talk?"

"I wanted to apologize."

"You already did that," Sam said, still unable to accept that this was a goodwill visit on Mira's part.

"So I'm doing it again."

"Why?"

"What do you mean 'why'?"

Sam took another sip from her glass and set it forcefully back on the table. "You don't know me, but I'm not generally one to beat around the bush – I get the feeling you aren't either," Mira nodded. "So let's cut the shit. You say you want to apologize? People apologize when they say something they don't mean or hurt someone they care about. You don't care about me and I'm pretty sure that you meant every word you said tonight." She stared at Mira, daring her to deny it. "So I'll ask you again. Why. Are. You. Here?"

Mira stared into the steely blue eyes of the woman across form her. She could see it now. All the times Spencer had said that she reminded him of Sam. He was right-this is exactly how she'd be acting if put in the Sam's shoes. Sam didn't trust Mira. She didn't have any reason to. They were alike in that way, unyielding, their trust hard-won. Under different circumstances, Mira thought they might have been friends. But at the moment there was nothing friendly about their exchange. Sam was studying her, waiting for Mira to make a move. Ready to pounce if she didn't like what was said.

"You're right," Mira relented, "partially anyway." Shock registered in Sam's eyes as she looked down at her glass. "When I heard you were here, back…in Seattle, I think I panicked. Al this time you've been like this ghost – hovering on the edge of my life. No one really mentions you but still…you're there. I guess I got used to that, you being there without _really_ being there. And I guess that somewhere along the line I convinced myself that if you stayed gone long enough, stayed invisible long enough, it'd be like you never existed. That one day I'd forget – everyone would forget and…"

"You'd have the life you wanted," Sam said, matter-of-factly, leaning back in her chair.

"Pathetic. I know."

"But I didn't come here to mess up your life or take Freddie from you or whatever you think it is I came to do. I didn't set out to ruin what you had with him."

"Maybe you're right. Maybe you didn't. But it doesn't really matter. The result is still the same." Mira leaned over the table, running her fingers over the lid of her glass, refusing to meet Sam's gaze. "I told myself I was just curious. I was just going to have dinner and get a good look at you, up close, for myself. And if I got the chance I was going to show you what you'd missed –what you'd left behind. I told myself that I wasn't bothered, that it didn't matter if you were here or not. Just curious." She looked up with a sigh, "I suppose on some level it was true. I wanted to see what all the fuss was about. What was so special about you, what made it so damn hard for him to forget – to move on."

"There's nothing special about me."

"I know!" Mira stopped herself, "Sorry…no offense."

Sam took a swallow from her glass and raised it in Mira's direction, rolling her eyes. "How could I possibly take offense to that?"

"What I meant was, I guess, that I was expecting something different. All this time I figured you must be prettier or smarter or, I don't know, a secret time travelling invisible ninja! Something that would make it all make sense! Then I meet you and yes you're pretty, and from that speech you gave I can tell you're smart too, but all this time I've had this larger than life image of you in my head and you're just…human! And maybe even a little boring!"

"Sorry to have disappointed you." Sam said, sarcastically, standing from her chair, "But if you're done I think I've had enough insults for the night."

"Damn it, will you just shut up and let me finish!" Mira shouted from her seat. "Just sit down and listen!"

"Listen to what Mira? Listen while you finish blaming me for what happened with you and Freddie? Let you finish telling me how un-special I am?" She slammed her glass on the table, the heat of her anger flushing her face as the clear liquid spilled over the table top, unnoticed by both women. "Well, excuse the hell out of me if I don't want to hear it!"

"But you need to hear it! You need to hear that and a lot more!"

"Really? What exactly is it that you think I need to hear Mira? What is it that you, someone who doesn't know me from a hole in the wall, can tell me, huh? Oh, that's right, I forgot…you know all you need to know about me right?"

"Yeah, actually I think I know enough!"

"Enlighten me then!" Sam sat down hard in the chair across from Mira, leaning predatorily toward her, eyes narrowed to slits.

"Don't try that 'tough as nails' act with me Sam. I practically invented it," Mira said, not budging an inch despite the malice floating from Sam in waves. "You might be tough now, but when it really counted, you were a coward!" she hissed. "Do you have any idea, any idea at all what you did to him? Do you even care?" she asked, her knuckles going white as she grasped the arm of the chair she perched on. "Of course you don't! You went off to 'find yourself', everyone else be damned!"

"How dare you! Do you think I don't know I hurt him!" She screamed forcing her eyes to hold back the tears threatening to spill onto her cheeks. She would not show weakness, not now. "Do you think walking away – leaving him, was easy?"

"Well, that's how it looks on this end. You left and got your fancy job and your life that went on without him! And while you were rebuilding your life I was here, giving my whole heart to someone who was too broken to give me his in return."

"And you're blaming me? I told Freddie to move on, if he didn't that's not my fault!" the lie like acid on her tongue.

"Isn't it?"

"He could have moved on!"

"Like you did?"

"I never…" she sat back against her chair, and turned her head. She'd said too much.

"That's what I thought." Mira said, "Raj...he's not your boyfriend is he?"

Sam shook her head.

"You see Sam, you're telling yourself the same lie I told myself for four years. And I almost believed it. Even after Freddie and I were over. But tonight I saw the way he looked at you. The way he couldn't seem to see anyone _but _you. So tell yourself whatever you have to if it helps you sleep at night but we both know the truth. The day you left, the way you left – no one else ever stood a chance. "

Mira sat back in her chair, breathing hard, shocked at the anger in her words. Admitting to herself openly, for the first time, that there wasn't anything she could have done to keep Freddie. He'd never really belonged to her.

The silence lay thick and impenetrable between them, each woman lost in the world of thought Mira's words had opened. Sam's fury, burning like kindling in a Santa Ana wind only moments before, was now dissipating as quickly as it had come and in its wake was a sparkling grain of truth, all the more glaring for the devastation it had endured, for the still burning remnants of deception that lay around it. For the first time in six years, she was completely unable to justify what she'd done. Too tired to deny the damage she'd caused, too tired to lie – even to herself.

"I saw you before…once." She looked quickly into Mira's questioning green eyes and away again. "It was five years ago. A year after I left. I came back." She waited for a reaction from Mira but was met only with silence. "I guess I wanted to see if…if I was wrong; if he missed me. It was Labor Day so I figured he'd be at Marissa's. I parked the car and told myself that when I saw him, if I saw him, I'd make things right. I'd beg him to forgive me if I had to. I was getting ready to get out of the car when I saw him…and you, walking out of the building. He looked…happy."

"I don't remember that."

"You wouldn't. As soon as I saw you I ducked back into the car. Waited…and watched, until you had passed." She offered a wry smile. "Like a coward."

"Why didn't you say anything?"

"What was I supposed to say? 'Hey Freddie, I see how happy you are with your gorgeous new girlfriend. I came to mess that up!'"

"Sam…

"The look on his face…" She drew a knee up to her chest in the chair, trying to insulate herself from a memory she'd worked for years to suppress. "Before Carly…died, I used to make him look that way. I used to make him happy."

"But, Sam…"

"No. Now it's your turn to shut up and listen." Her voice left no room for argument and Mira sat back, looking into Sam's face, flinching at the pain displayed there. She wanted to hold onto her anger, to hate this woman, but looking at her now made it almost impossible. "We were like the world's strangest couple, me and Freddie. On paper we made no sense at all but somehow, someway, we made it work. It was mostly him to be honest. He just wouldn't give up, no matter what I did he was always just…there. For a long time he and Carly were the only things in the world I could depend on." A soft smile played around the corners of her lips. "It was hard, I swear sometimes that man drove me insane…but I knew he loved me. And I loved him too, so much. Then Carly died and it was like my whole world fell apart. Nothing made sense anymore and I just – I couldn't seem to find a way to be happy. He tried so hard. Every minute I was with him, every time he touched me or held me or tried to make me smile I felt like a thief. Like I'd stolen these moments from someone who deserved them so much more than I did."

"Carly." Mira's voice was a soft assurance. She understood, as much as she was able, and that small concession made it easier for Sam to continue.

"Yeah," she looked at Mira, "Does he ever talk about her?"

"Not much, and when he does, I can tell it hurts him still." Her voice was soft, "But Spencer, he's told me some. He told me that it got pretty bad…before she passed away."

"I was supposed to be with her that night. She practically begged me to stay but I said no. I missed my boyfriend. I just wanted one night alone with Freddie where I didn't have to wonder if Carly was okay. When I didn't have to think about how sad she was or how helpless it all made me feel. And while I was thinking about how good it felt to be free of it all, just for one night, my best friend was laying in the street dying – alone." Sam looked up, tears streaming down her face as she hugged her arms around herself, rocking softly. Her voice caught as she continued. "She was the most amazing person I've ever known. The exact opposite of me at the time. She was giving and selfless and…she had this happiness that just got on everyone she was around even if you didn't want it to. I just couldn't see how everyone moved on. I couldn't see how life was supposed to keep going when someone so wonderful was gone and regular, selfish me was still here."

"So you left."

"I had to!" she shouted. "I knew no one would understand and I didn't want to hurt anyone – least of all Freddie. But I had to get away. They all kept saying that it wasn't my fault. That it would get better. But they were wrong. I had to find some way to pay for what I did, and what I didn't do. I just wanted the pain to stop."

"So you hurt him on your way to make 'you' feel better." It was a statement, not a question, and Sam flinched at the realization.

"Do you think I don't know that? DO you think there is a day that I don't remember how it felt to walk away? When I don't wonder if I made a mistake?" Mira was silent. "So when I saw him with you I figured that was it. It was done, but at least he was happy…even if it wasn't with me."

Mira nodded her head. "We were happy, I guess, for a while anyway. But eventually it was hard to ignore that something was missing. I know he loved me and he's crazy about A.J. but part of him just – wasn't there." She sipped the last of the drink in her glass. "Tonight, the way he looked at you. He's never looked at me that way. Like the world stopped when he saw you. And it wasn't shock from seeing you or even anger because you left. It was love, the kind he couldn't give to me. That kind of love, it can't be forgotten or replaced." She looked up at the blond and tried to smile. "He never let go – not really. And I don't think you did either."

"What is it that you want me to do, Mira? It's been six years. He has his life and a son and…what could I possibly say to him?"

"How about the truth?"

"I don't know if the truth matters anymore."

"It always matters. You know what you said earlier, about apologizing when you say something you don't mean?"

"Yeah?"

"You said goodbye six years ago, but I don't think you meant it. And I think he needs to hear that."

Mira reached into her purse and pulled out a business card, scribbling on the back. Turning to Sam, she placed the card down on the table and slid it towards her.

"Listen Sam, I can't pretend to know everything that happened between you and Freddie. All I know is that whatever was between the two of you, it's not over – not by a long shot." She stood and pulled her purse over her arm, patting Sam's shoulder as she passed her and headed for the door. With her hand on the knob she turned and faced her one last time. "I know I'm probably the last person you'd consider taking advice from, but at least think about what I said. Freddie is…amazing. However hard it might be to talk to him, I think he's worth it." She smiled and opened the door. "And for what it's worth, if I have to lose him to someone, I'd rather it be you."

The door shut behind her and Sam barely made it to the bed before she collapsed.

She cried then, harder than she had since the day she'd left Seattle. She cried for the sister-friend she'd lost and the pain that made her walk away from the man she'd loved more than life. She cried for the emptiness she now knew they'd both lived with.

Six years of grief and loss she'd denied and hidden from her own heart poured out of her as her body racked with sobs. She'd found a new life, yes, but at what cost? How had she ever been blind enough to think it didn't matter? When she finally calmed, the soft light of morning had begun to creep into the room. She was spent.

Standing on unsteady legs, she made her way into the bathroom, splashing cold water on her face, delaying the inevitable. As she left the bathroom, her eyes fell to the card Mira had left on the table. The front was a standard business card – an ad agency logo splashed across the right corner, Mira's name at the bottom. Sam smiled at that – as persuasive as Mira was, she should have known she'd be in advertising. Turning it over in her hands she saw the neat printing of an address:

15982 High Point Circle; Number 17 – Code: 0712.

Her birthday.

Under the address were printed the words: _It's never too late._

Sighing, she turned back to the room and started to get dressed, hurrying, before she lost her nerve.

She hoped Mira was right.

* * *

><p>The first pill was to forget. The night had been worse than he'd imagined. What started as a twinge of anxiety had blossomed into full panic before he'd even laid his eyes on her. Throughout the dinner he'd watched her, sometimes without conscious thought or decision. He'd noted all the ways she was different, and all the ways she was the same. She was quiet. That was different. She barely uttered a word unless someone spoke directly to her. Through all of Mira's stories and Raj's comments, she'd sat listening, her face set like stone. But her eyes, they were the same. She didn't turn them on him often, but when she did he saw the old Sam there – his Sam, and it was like Chinese water torture, slowly driving him mad. By the end of the night, standing outside yelling at a woman who'd become a virtual stranger to him, he'd wanted nothing more than to come home, close his door, and forget. That's why he'd taken the first pill.<p>

But it hadn't worked. He lay awake, tossing and turning – his years with Sam and without her, playing on endless loop in his head. So he took the second pill. He wasn't a pill popper. He only had them at the urging of a doctor Mira had forced him to see when the recurring rooftop nightmare kept him up and left him unable to function. He'd put them on the second shelf of his medicine cabinet. In case of emergencies.

This felt like an emergency.

In hindsight the second pill had been a bad idea. He hadn't known it at first. Once it began to take affect he felt the familiar cotton soft drifting as his body forced his mind to quiet. His fingers tingled and as he lay down the sharpness at the edge of his thoughts of Sam began to fade. Instead of thinking of the pain of losing her, he felt himself slipping into memories of how it felt to have her. The way she felt when he held her, the sounds she made when his body found hers in the darkness. She might not be his any longer, but the memories – those would always be his; a blessing and a curse. As he floated into deep sleep he prayed the pill, and the thoughts of her smile, would relieve him of the agony her return to his life had caused, and keep the nightmares at bay.

His prayer went unanswered.

He was screaming. His voice was hoarse as it left his body, like razor wire against his throat. His feet refused to move from their spot on the gravel-covered rooftop, no matter how diligently he commanded them. The sky above him opened and hard ice rain poured down, meeting the inky black waves below.

He'd been here before, so many times he'd lost count, but the terror that gripped him was fresh – this was a horror he'd never grow used to. He struggled, blankets tangled against his sleeping form. The room around him was deathly silent, but in the nightmare dreamscape his mind occupied, the noise was deafening.

She was disappearing again; fading right before his eyes.

'_Don't go!'_

His cries were useless. He knew she'd still leave. He couldn't hold on. His chest ached as he cried out her name in his despair.

'_Sam!'_

He'd lost her again. The waves pounded against the exterior of the building he stood on. He covered his ears as they seemed to scream at him.

'She's gone. Gone. Gone. Gone.'

They banged out his fear, harder and harder.

Bang. Bang. Bang.

It didn't stop. Even after his eyes fluttered open slowly. Even after he sat up, he was still caught in the nightmare, unnerved by her fading form and his inability to stop it.

The incessant pounding continued. He threw back the covers and stumbled blindly from his room, still in that half-life between waking and sleep. The living room, where the morning light was held at bay by heavy curtains, remained blanketed in thick darkness. He squinted, trying in vain to pull himself fully into reality. The second pill had been a bad choice.

He spun around as the banging continued before moving on unsteady feet across the room.

The door. Someone was at the door.

* * *

><p>Standing outside of the door to Unit 17, Sam's nerves set her hands shaking, quickening her breaths. She'd taken the stairs for the last three flights up, hoping to calm herself or at least release the nervous energy that had her whole body on high alert. It hadn't worked.<p>

'_Maybe this wasn't such a good idea'_ she thought as she paced in front of the door. Six years was a long time, even longer when you considered the situation surrounding them. The elevator was to her immediate right. It would be easy enough to get on it, go back to the hotel, and forget this night ever happened.

'_You're good at running'_

The memory of Freddie's words was still fresh. She'd prove him wrong. She had no idea what waited for her on the other side of the door, but regardless of the outcome she was done running.

Raising her hand she knocked tentatively, then with more force, as the door went unanswered. She heard heavy footsteps on the other side and held her breath as she waited.

Still no answer.

She knocked again, this time her fist pounding against the wood. Her courage was waning. If he didn't answer soon, her flight response would drive her back out into the early morning street. She'd come too far to turn back now. She pounded again and again, until the footsteps came closer and stopped. She raised her hand again then, dropped it quickly as the door swung open.

He'd been sleeping. That made sense- it was barely six in the morning on a Sunday. His hair was ruffled and five o'clock shadow darkened his face, reminding her that he wasn't the boy she'd left. He was a man now. The tank top he wore stretched tight over lean muscle, wrinkled pajama pants slung low over his hips. He stood in the doorway without a word. His face was twisted into a confused frown, his eyes clouded. He studied her, his head turned to the side, as if trying to remember who she was.

"Freddie?"

As she spoke it finally seemed to register who she was, but instead of the irritation she'd expected, he looked relieved. His chocolate eyes, clouded with confusion moments before, were now filled with the glimmer of tears and his breathing increased, chest straining against his shirt as he looked down at her.

"You're here," he whispered.

"Yeah. Sorry it's so early but I thought we needed…to talk." Her voice was loud as she forced the words from her mouth. "Can I…"

Her words were cut off as he pulled her arm and she found herself smashed against him. It was at once foreign and familiar. The arms around her were strong and she felt herself pulled faster and faster through six years of time, to a place where these arms were all she needed to feel safe.

* * *

><p>She was here. But she couldn't be-she'd faded into nothingness on a dark rooftop where he was powerless to hold on. She'd disappeared, washed away by the rain.<p>

"Freddie."

He shook his head. The dream never ended this way. She'd never spoken before. He peered down at her. It was her voice. The one he could still remember saying 'I love you'. His eyes moved down her frame. Her hair. Her eyes. He knew them, and while a nagging voice in the darkest corner of his mind told him to slam the door, to turn his back on this illusion, he couldn't. Her voice, her hair, her eyes…this was Sam. His Sam. There was only one thought he seemed able to focus on. 'Please God, let her be real'. And if this was a dream he prayed that he could stay in it; just long enough to touch her, to hold her.

"You're here."

He could barely breathe. His lungs resisted his attempt to fill them. She said something but he couldn't hear her. If he focused too hard on what she was saying, this whole thing would collapse – he knew that and resisted reality's insistence on tearing from him the thing he'd silently prayed for though six years.

He reached out and almost screamed in relief when her skin was soft and warm against his hand.

'_She's not an illusion'_ his heart cried. But his mind, that destroyer of all but the most insistent of dreams, told him that while her presence was real, his feelings in this moment were not to be trusted. He tossed the thought to the side and pulled her to him. He buried his face in her hair, inhaling her, relishing the feel of her in his arms. No one had ever fit so perfectly.

Moving them into the house he shut the door with his foot. She felt so real. He refused to let her go for fear that it might send her back into his dreams where's she'd fade like smoke through his fingers. He pulled back and peered down into her face.

* * *

><p>'<em>This is wrong'<em> every rational thought cried out in unison. She'd come to talk, expected it to get intense and probably end badly. She'd never expected to be standing in his arms and she wasn't prepared for how the feeling of his body against her would send desire straight through her, coming to a stop in a swirling ball of desperation and want at the pit of her stomach. It had been six years but her body still remembered him.

But she couldn't. There were too many things to be said. She couldn't afford to let her feelings take over; that's how they'd wound up here in the first place. She needed to talk to him. Tell him why she'd left. Tell him how she'd changed. Apologize for the way she'd hurt him.

She felt her body go stiff as she mentally prepared herself for a conversation neither of them seemed to want to have. He pulled away slowly, his arms still around her, and looked down into her face. Those eyes. She'd forgotten how beautiful they were, forgotten how it felt how it felt to have them rake over her, stoking the embers of want until they were a burning crescendo coursing through her. She fought herself. She'd come here for a reason, haphazardly prepared a speech on the way over. But the intensity of his gaze, the feel of his arms around her, his finger running small soft circles over her hip, it all sent her best intentions fleeing from her conscious mind – replacing them with only one thought.

She wanted him.

* * *

><p>She was beautiful, even more so now than when he'd been able to call her his. Maybe that was it, the thought that she was no longer his, <em>that<em> made his feelings urgent. He'd lost her once in real life and hundreds of times over the years in his dreams. There didn't seem to be time for waiting or hesitation. There was no guarantee that he'd close his eyes and find her there when he opened them. His heart rate quickened as he realized how fragile the moment. Since he'd first seen her this afternoon the ugliness of their history had stood menacingly between them. Even now it wasn't gone, merely sleep, lying dormant. The wrong word would only awaken it and send it raging up between them, destroying the tentative peace the silence of the moment was offering them.

"Freddie…" his name was a whisper on her lips. A question. _'Is this really what you want?'_

'_Say No!'_ his mind was insistent but he couldn't form the words, and wasn't sure he would even if he were able. Like an overindulgent parent, he would give his heart what it wanted – regardless of the consequence.

His answer was to close the distance between them, bringing his lips to hers. As he moved against her, sliding his tongue over her bottom lip in the way she'd always loved he felt hot tears sting behind his closed eyes. He'd missed her, missed this. He hadn't known just how much until now. He waited, feeling her relax against him, waiting for her to give in and join him in this place where the past didn't matter. She wrapped her hands around the back of his neck and the soft moan she gave as she pressed herself against him said that she'd missed him too.

'_Wake up Freddie!'_ he shut his eyes against the throbbing in his head and the conflict in his heart. _'Why did you have to miss her? Because she left! Remember?'_

The haze was lifting. His mind, quieted by the pills and vestiges of familiar nightmare, now assaulted him, urging him to stop before it was too late. He didn't want to think about it; didn't want to look any deeper into it than the rush of need coating the ache he's tried to hide for six years. He shook his head, tightening his grip around her waist, lifting her as he moved them toward his bedroom. He needed this, he'd lost so much, hurt so much, he just wanted one night – one moment to let go and drown himself in her without thought of what tomorrow might bring.

He pushed against the bedroom door, not bothering to turn on the lights, and walked them toward the king-sized bed. All the while, his mouth never left hers. He explored it, running his tongue over hers, tasting her, remembering her. Laying her on the bed, he pulled away long enough to look down into her face.

"So beautiful."

* * *

><p>He'd called her beautiful. She couldn't remember the last time she'd felt beautiful. He was watching her, gauging her reaction. They lay that way for a while, the weight of his body over hers, both comforting and terrifying. His fingers played at the draw string of her pants as he stared into her eyes.<p>

He was asking permission.

If there was a time to stop, a time to be the voice of reason, it was now, but her open mouth gave no objection. Her silence spurred him forward and his eyes darkened as he lowered his face to her neck, nipping and biting at the soft flesh, placing feather light kisses against her jaw. Her eyes rolled as his mouth set her skin ablaze. He whispered her name, deep and soft against her ear, and she worked to find her voice.

"Freddie…I don't think we…"

He buried his face in her neck and she felt the wet trail his tears had left against his cheek.

"Please…" His voice cracked as he pled with her. She heard it then – his loneliness, his hurt – his need. She was powerless to resist. She'd robbed them of a million nights like this, taken away their ability to find solace in each other. But now, however temporary, she could give it back.

* * *

><p>"Please…" He was begging, his body screaming for her. He felt her nod as her thumb ran over his cheek, wiping away tears he hadn't realized he was crying. It was all he needed.<p>

He brought his lips back to hers but this time there was no trace of softness, no questions – only his demand that, even if only for tonight, she would be his. He pushed roughly at the loose sweats that she wore, reaching down with one hand to pull them from her feet and toss them to the floor. Her small hands ran over his chest, down his stomach, yanking at the bottom of his shirt, dragging it over his head. His breath was ragged as he pulled away from her, watching as she slid out of the black lace panties she wore, never taking her eyes from his. He made quick work of his pajama bottoms until, finally, he lay over her, skin to skin.

The feeling was almost too much and he felt his body tense – ready to end this before it had even begun. At another time his movements would have been measured, he would have held off, dragged out the moment until neither of them could stand it. There was no time for that now.

He grabbed her hip, pulling her close as he wrapped her leg around his waist. Reaching between them he ran a hand over her groaning at the wetness he found there. His fingers ran tiny circles over the bundle of nerves and she arched into him the rush of words from her mouth sounding like a prayer. Her face flushed, her hips twisted, raised toward him. He positioned himself, ready to enter her, fighting hard now against memories of the last time he'd felt her under him. It was the same face, the same look of pleasure, the rapid rise and fall of her chest.

'_She left'_

The thought leapt to the front of his mind unbidden and he shook his head to relieve himself of it. She was here now.

'_She abandoned you.'_

He pushed into her, harder than he'd intended and felt her flinch as her breath left in a rush. He shut his eyes tight, moving against her. She whimpered and lifted her leg higher on his hip. Wrapping her arm around his neck she pulled him close, biting at the skin of his neck, raking her nails over his back. She'd left marks the last time. He'd found them a day later, when he'd escaped his depression-induced stupor long enough to shower.

'_Why were you depressed?'_ His mind was insistent_. 'Because she left. You can't let her back in. She hurt you. She deserves to hurt.'_

He pushed into her again, hoping to drive away the thoughts with each thrust. He shut his eyes tight. He couldn't look at her face. He thought he might be hurting her and feared the confirmation he might find in her eyes.

* * *

><p>She'd dreamed of being with him. In the darkness of night, when the world was quiet around her, he'd come to her in dreams, his hands soft against her, his movements slow and measured. He'd whisper in her ear, wipe at the tears she cried, and assure her that he'd loved her then and that he loved her still. She woke from those dreams filled with regret, her pillow wet with the tears that followed her from her dreams.<p>

This wasn't what she dreamed. His face was tense, eyes closed. He grabbed at her, his hands heavy, his movements erratic. He'd entered her with a force that made her cry out. He wasn't slow or soft, instead he moved over her like a man possessed. This wasn't making love, it was an intimacy tinged with hurt-with every thrust she heard his heart: _'You hurt me.'_

And she gave herself to him still. Lying underneath him she opened herself, allowing him to release the feelings they'd both held for all of these lost years. She wanted to take it from him, the sadness that marred his features, the anger she felt she deserved. There would be time to make things right, for now she would give him what she could and pray it was enough to erase the hurt she'd caused. Enough to help him remember that it hadn't always been this way, that once upon a time, she'd made him happy...

* * *

><p>They came in a rush – the thoughts he'd kept at bay since he'd opened his door to find her there. This was no dream. This was no illusion. Flashes of memory filled his mind, each one more painful than the last. Her face the night Carly had died, the image of her curled into a ball refusing to talk to him, flinching away from his touch. Her body beside his as he drifted to sleep the last time he'd been with her like this. The empty space next to him as he woke and entered a nightmare that had lasted six years. The letter sitting on his laptop.<p>

He cried out his release, the shudder running through is body pulling him fully into reality. He opened his eyes then and looked down at her. She was crying, biting at the corner of her lip, her shoulders shaking. He'd hurt her, he was almost sure of it, but the regret slipping softy into his heart was no match for the rage building in his gut.

There was no haze now, no mist to soften over the glaring truth. He'd loved her, given her every part of him he could and she'd run away. Left him to wonder what he'd done wrong. Left him so broken he wondered if he'd ever love again. He sat up quickly, moving to the side of the bed, lowering his head into his hands.

The second pill was a mistake, one that he was now paying for. It'd been wrong. He should have turned her away at the door. But he hadn't and now she lay naked beside him, tears staining her cheeks as she silently asked him for an absolution he couldn't offer her.

"Freddie…" she sat up slowly, reaching out to touch his shoulder. He flinched at her touch and she looked stricken as she withdrew her hand. "We should talk."

"No." he said.

"Freddie, what just happened…"

"Was a mistake." There was a finality to his voice that jarred him. Even in his own head he sounded cold, emotionless.

"I'm sorry." She said, drawing the sheet around herself and she moved to sit beside him. "I should have stopped. I…this wasn't how it was supposed to happen. This isn't why I came."

"Why did you come?"

"I needed to talk."

"You needed?" his laugh was hollow. "So it's about what you need again?" He was a hypocrite. The last twenty minutes had been about what he needed. What he'd taken without thought of the effects.

She sighed deeply. "What do you want from me Freddie. I'm trying." Her voice cracked. "I'm trying to fix this. Just tell me what to do? Tell me what will make it better and I'll do it."

He shook his head and stood from the bed. Regret lay heavy on his chest, squeezing in until he could scarcely breathe. He couldn't do this – it was too much. His love for her was teetering on the edge of hate and he was too tired to determine which he felt more. He'd wanted her every day for six years, dreamed of a day he could hold her in his arms again. But now, he wanted to be free of her. There wasn't anything she could say to fix it, nothing she could do to make it better – for either of them. He walked toward the bedroom door and opened it, standing on the side.

"You want me to tell you what to do?" he said, his voice low. He looked into her eyes and felt his knees go weak at the fear in them. "I think you should do what you do best Sam. Leave."

Her face crumpled and her shoulders began to shake. Instinct nearly pushed him to her side. His heart wept along with her, devastated at the hurt he was causing. But his heart was no longer in charge – it never should have been, he thought.

She silently gathered her clothes, throwing them on as he stared out into the living room. He couldn't look at her. If he did he might do something stupid like wrap her in his arms and tell her all was forgiven. Forgiveness wasn't something he could offer.

She rushed past him and into the living room, grabbing her purse and keys from the spot she dropped them at near the door. He didn't move, just standing staring after her, and for the second time in six years, he watched her walk out of his life.

* * *

><p>She was dying. In the time since she'd arrived back in Seattle she'd told herself more than once that if she could take the pain from Freddie and bear it herself she would. She'd gotten her wish now and it was crippling. The way he'd looked at her when it was over, as if he'd just woken up and found himself in bed with a stranger. The disgust in his eyes when she'd tried to touch him. His voice as he told her to leave.<p>

It had been a mistake. Coming to his house…coming to Seattle at all. She didn't belong here. Not anymore.

She gathered her clothes, dressing as fast as she could, praying she could make it to the car before breaking down. He hadn't spoken, hadn't even looked at her. She'd been weak and stupid and now she was paying for it. She'd left him and expected that he'd forgive her, the way he always had. But that was the old Freddie – the one who'd forgive her anything, love her through anything. This was a different man. And his forgiveness would not be given easily – or at all.

She forced herself not to look back at him as she opened the door.

Rushing into the hallway she turned to the elevator, praying it would be fast, groaning as humiliation filled her. As the doors open she stared at the ground, wrapping her arms around herself.

"Sam?"

Mira stepped of the elevator holding A.J.'s hand, her face a mask of confusion and worry. "What's wrong?"

Sam shook her head, she couldn't tell Mira what happened.

"Not now Mira," she said, stepping into the elevator, pressing the button for the lobby.

"A.J., go press the button at Daddy's door. I'll be right there." Mira turned back to Sam as A.J. walked toward Freddie's door, peering at Sam over his shoulder. "Wait!" Mira said, pressing a hand to the doors, preventing them from closing. "What happened? Why are you crying?"

"Just leave it Mira."

"But..."

"No! It's over, okay! You were wrong." She stuttered, stepping into the elevator. "Sometimes it _is_ too late." And as the elevator doors shut she allowed herself to fall apart. She ran from the elevator when it stopped and out into the street, where rain came down in sheets, mixing with the tears that wouldn't stop.

She ran for her car, dropping her keys as she tried to unlock the doors. She had to get out of here, out of Seattle, back to Goa. She didn't care if it made her a coward.

Pulling out her phone she called the airline. She was due to leave the day after tomorrow – but that wasn't soon enough. She needed to leave now. The agent on the other end informed her that all flights out of SeaTac were cancelled due to weather. She screamed, sobs wracking her body as she threw her phone to the floor of the car. Every second she had to stay here would rip even further the delicate fabric of her sanity.

Her vision blurred, tears dripping down the front of her shirt.

He'd used her. Like a cheap thrill he'd picked up at last call. She could still feel his hands, hard against her. Feel him thrusting against her, harder and harder. She felt dirty, she'd given herself to him and he'd taken what she offered, then tossed it back to her as if it meant nothing.

She sped back to the hotel, desperate to shower, hoping that she could escape the horror of this night in her dreams, but knowing that she wouldn't. Cars around her honked as she weaved in and out of traffic, squinting as the rain made it harder and harder to see. She heard the familiar ring of her phone and searched the floor with her eyes until she found it on the floor of the passengers' side. The screen lit up with Raj's picture. He was probably worried; she hadn't told him she was leaving.

Wiping at her face, she reached down to retrieve her phone. Grasping it in her hands she sat up, shutting her eyes as the glare of headlights filled her windshield. There was a sickening crack and the sound of her voice screaming. Then the world went dark.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:**

**Well, hopefully y'all don't hate me…too much. I know, it's getting a little dark in our Seddie universe…but hang in there with me. Have I let you down before?**

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	10. In His Name Part 1

**A/N: In response to all of the lovely messages I received about this story I've posted this chapter. It will be the last one posted to this site. As you might have read previously, for personal reasons, I'm leaving this site. I will now be posting my stories on AO3 (link on my profile page which will stay up or you can do an internet search for AO3 to find it since this site won't allow links in stories).**

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* * *

><p><strong>Benediction<strong>

**Chapter 10 - In His Name Part 1**

Marissa Benson drained the last of her coffee and set it back in the cup holder. Looking into her rearview mirror she shook her head and frowned. Fruitlessly she pinched her cheeks, attempting to draw some color to her skin. She generally prided herself on the fact that her face belied her 50 years. She worked out, ate right and tried, as much as she could, to live a reasonably healthy life. Today it didn't matter. Exhaustion gave her face a rundown look – one that screamed 'I've been alive for a half century…maybe more!'

She'd spent the better part of last night entertaining a four-year old who had enough energy for another five children his age. She loved her grandson, but at her age chasing him around the house required a level of energy she did not currently possess.

Normally it wasn't so bad; she'd take him to the park or out for frozen yogurt, get down on the floor and play with the toy trains he was so enamored with. But this hadn't been a regular visit. The call she'd gotten from Spencer yesterday had drained her emotionally and she'd had little left over to keep up with A.J.

Sam was back.

Those three words had pounded in her head since she'd first heard them. She'd attempted not to think about it, a fruitless exercise for sure. She'd yet to talk to Freddie about it. This morning, after Mira picked up A.J. – looking more than a little distracted, she'd called him and tried to bring it up. All he'd say was 'It's not a good time, mom'. When would be a good time, she wondered. Sam had been a sore subject between the two of them since she'd left, and it didn't appear that her return to Seattle had changed that.

It was strange, really. When Samantha Puckett had first entered her life, an abrasive eight year old with bad manners, a bad attitude and a penchant for tormenting Marissa's only son, she'd done everything in her power to convince Freddie that a friendship with Sam was destined for disaster. It was mothering instinct more than any real facts that backed up her opinion of Sam. Or maybe it was fear. From the first time she'd seen Freddie and Sam interact she'd known – that girl was going to change her son. And change wasn't something Marissa had ever been comfortable with.

She'd watched as he pined after Carly and then watched as his crush dissipated and the relationship between Freddie and Sam began to change. She was ashamed now to think of the things she'd said to discourage the friendship. She'd called her a delinquent, pointed toward Sam's crumbling home life, insisted that Sam had no future – nothing positive to offer. But she'd been wrong, she could admit that now.

Before meeting Sam, Freddie had been shy – painfully so. He had few friends and spent most of his time holed up in his room. But slowly he'd changed. The quiet, 'don't rock the boat' son she'd raised began to assert himself. When Sam pushed, he pushed back and eventually he learned to do it, not just with Sam but with anyone who stood between him and what he wanted. By then the looks of irritation or frustration she'd see on his face when he was with Sam began to give way to something else. She hadn't wanted to see it, had turned a blind an eye when possible, thinking that, eventually, it would go away, just like his crush on Carly. But it hadn't gone away and by the time she was forced to acknowledge it, she'd also had to acknowledge that it wasn't going to go away. He loved her, in a way that made her proud of the man he was becoming and wistful for the by he'd once been.

It had taken her a while to come around – Sam was not easy to love. Thing had been tense, and sometimes downright volatile, between the two of them, but in the same way she'd watched the tiny blonde change her son, she watched in awe as the girl seemed to blossom under the love Freddie showered on her. She was still tough, and the things she said sometimes made Marissa cringe in their coarseness, but there was one thing Marissa could not deny. Sam loved her son. At least that's what she'd thought.

And eventually, without conscious thought, her feelings had moved slowly from tolerance, to acceptance, then to love. By the time Sam and Freddie went away to college, she'd come to see Sam as family, and she knew Sam felt the same – even if the words were never exactly spoken. Sam brought out strength in Freddie and he brought out softness in her. They were good for each other, she thought.

When Freddie had approached her and said he wanted to ask Sam to marry him she'd been ecstatic, realizing she'd been waiting for that moment for some time. Sam was already her daughter as far as Marissa's heart was concerned, a wedding just made it official.

Then Carly died.

Marissa still felt a familiar ache when she thought of it. She'd not been close to Carly but her presence in Freddie's life made her important to Marissa. It was the first time since his father died that Freddie had dealt with the death of anyone close to him. She stood by, ready and waiting for the moment he'd need her to comfort him, but that time never came. He'd been stoic, rarely crying, instead spending his time trying to make sure Sam was okay, the Sam who retreated into a shell no one could seem to draw her out of. Marissa had hurt for her, worried at her silence, and wracked her brain for a way to help her, a way to reach her beneath the sadness that seemed to cover her like a shroud. She understood that kind of sadness. When her husband, Jack, had died, Marissa spent days in the house – incapable of facing the world. If it hadn't been for Freddie she wasn't entirely sure she'd have made it out alive. She saw that same hopelessness in Sam's eyes then. Hopelessness made people do drastic things.

She'd expected that the road to recovery for Sam would be hard, she'd told Freddie as much and encouraged him to be patient … to give her time. She'd never expected it to end the way it did.

She shook her head against the memory. Freddie had been devastated. She still remembered his face as he stumbled from his room, letter in hand, his face a mix of shock and fear. She hadn't known what to tell him. The mother in her was angry, for a long time. Freddie wasn't the only one who'd given his heart to Sam, and his wasn't the only heart broken by her disappearance. She hurt for him, but she also hurt for herself. She'd loved Sam, and welcomed her into their family. Sam leaving felt like a betrayal, one Marissa wasn't sure she'd ever get over.

But eventually she did get over it. That first year was painful, watching Freddie as he waited, convinced that she'd be back any day. By the second year the anger softened and she found herself missing the petite blond who'd become such an integral part of her life. She missed her laugh, she missed their verbal sparring matches, but most of all she missed the man Freddie had been when he was with her. Freddie moved on, but something in him, a spark of life, was extinguished, and he never quite got it back.

When he'd introduced her to Mira she'd smiled politely and tried to say all the right things, but in her heart she knew she'd never love this girl the way she'd loved Sam, and neither would Freddie. She'd been sure it would end in disaster, and told Freddie as much but he'd been resolute – he needed to move on and Mira was the woman he'd do that with. She'd seen the warning signs from the very beginning. The way Mira smiled at him, as if he were the center of the universe. He'd never looked at Mira that way, never laughed as loud or smiled as wide as he had with Sam. Mira was a placeholder – even if he didn't know it.

Eventually he and Mira ended what probably should never have begun and the resulting fallout had been just as bad as she'd expected. By the time he'd had the courage to be honest about how he felt there was a child involved. Her grandson, whom she loved more than her own life, who spent his whole life between two parents in two different houses because his father hadn't been able to admit the truth Marissa had always known – that he wasn't over Sam; that he might never be.

The relationship between Freddie and Mira seemed amicable, much friendlier than any other 'broken' family she'd seen before. She suspected that part of it was because Mira still loved Freddie – a fact that softened her feelings toward the woman she'd never quite warmed up to.

For all intents and purposes, life had gone on in Sam's absence. Freddie never talked about it, and eventually Marissa removed all the pictures she'd had around the house of Sam and Freddie – it was too painful to see him try to avoid looking at them, or the look of sadness on his face when he picked one up, unaware Marissa was watching him. She'd stopped talking about Sam too, it was the surest way to send Freddie into tense silence. She kept her memories to herself, and in front of her son she tried to pretend that Sam's absence didn't affect her. It was a lie they'd all gotten skilled at telling. But it wasn't true. Sam's leaving left a scar on her heart that hurt all the more for the fact that she was forced to ignore it.

Until yesterday.

The way she'd found out about Sam's return was almost as shocking as the news itself. Mira had called her and asked if she minded keeping A.J. overnight. Marissa, of course, didn't mind, but Mira calling her to ask was by no means a normal occurrence. Generally those requests came from Freddie. She'd inquired, as politely as possible, what the occasion was – she knew that Freddie had a gala for the Seattle Philanthropic Society to attend and the last she'd heard A.J. was to stay with Spencer until it was over, then spend the weekend with Freddie. In her usual blunt manner Mira told her that she and Freddie would both be attending and expected it to be a really late night. 'His ex is in town. Sam's back,' she'd said.

Marissa couldn't really recall the rest of the conversation. She'd been in shock and still hadn't fully recovered when Mira dropped A.J. off, looking even more beautiful than she normally did. She didn't call Freddie then, since she hadn't come to terms with the news yet herself. Her feelings vacillated all evening – confusion, anger, hope, and even sadness as the years old scar left by Sam's disappearance opened and refused to be ignored.

She'd slept very little and found herself watching her phone throughout the night, wondering if it might ring, if she might get the chance to hear the voice of the daughter who'd broken her heart, the daughter she still missed as much as the day she'd left. But the phone never rang. She wasn't surprised but she'd be lying if she said it didn't sting a little. Sam was in Seattle, and she'd not thought to contact Marissa. Maybe life had moved on for Sam too – or maybe Marissa and Freddie weren't the only ones who'd gotten good at pretending it had.

Mira had shown up at her house an hour ago, solemn and uncharacteristically quiet. Marissa hadn't asked any questions – she didn't need to. From the looks of it things hadn't gone well. Freddie's terse response to her call was further proof.

She was scheduled for a double shift – the reason for consuming her SkyBucks coffee, with a double shot of espresso, at record speed. Between the emotion of knowing Sam was back and the energy she'd spent taking care of A.J., she was exhausted. Any conversation with Freddie about Sam's reappearance would have to wait.

Flipping her driver's side visor closed she grabbed her bag and exited the car. She'd been working as an ER nurse for close to five years now. It was exhilarating and she was good at it, better able than most to put her feelings aside and care for the patients, even with the most severe of injuries. It wasn't something everyone could do and Marissa prided herself on her professionalism. Whatever was going on in her personal life, she was generally able to shut it off and do the work at hand. Today wouldn't be so easy, questions about Sam and worries about Freddie pricked the back of her mind. She needed to focus; she only prayed she'd be able to.

Walking through the sliding doors of the ER she put on her 'Nurse Marissa' face, a gentle smile intended to help calm the people around her even as the area descended into chaos. It was Sunday morning though and from the looks of it, the morning would be quiet, a fact she was grateful for. Sliding her bag into a closet behind the check in desk she greeted the nurses on shift with her.

"Hey Marissa!" Cynthia, a young African American woman who'd been working with her for a year, threw an easy smile her way. They were kindred spirits. Cynthia possessed a fierce determination that made it difficult to ruffle her feathers. And heaven help the person who got on her bad side. She worked hard – something Marissa appreciated when the ER got hectic and their shifts were filled with gross understaffing, difficult cases, and overworked doctors. Between the two of them they managed to keep it all afloat.

"Hey Cyn. Looks quiet today. Are you coming on or going off?"

Cynthia looked over the chart in front of her and then up at Marissa. "Very quiet – thank God, I was not in the mood for craziness this morning! And I'm on a double with you."

They worked together, handling charts, calling the lab to put in requests, getting up to speed on the current patients as the previous shift's nurses began to leave. It was work that required her full attention, which made it easier to ignore what had been bothering her, or at least silence the voice in her head.

She'd been there for no more than thirty minutes when their radio beeped, signaling an incoming Emergency Rescue crew.

"Seattle General." She looked over the intake board, already mentally determining if they had the available bed space.

"This is Emergency Unit #493. Car crash, two victims. Both alive, one alert with minimal injuries, one non-responsive but breathing, multiple injuries. ETA, five minutes.

"Bring them in."

She informed the doctors on duty and made sure she had two rooms ready, and let Cynthia know what was coming in. She felt the familiar adrenaline rush that accompanied an ambulance call. Despite the description of injuries by the EMT's you never knew what might actually come through the door. She'd seen gurneys roll in with an EMT on top of the patient, attempting CPR only to have the patient called as a DOA. She'd seen teenagers come through, victims of shootings, blood soaking their clothes and the gurney they lay on as they called out for their mothers. She'd held the hands of people she knew weren't going to make it and comforted the parents and children of patients holding onto life by a thread. She considered it an honor, the ability to be with people at their very darkest moments. She was to them what she'd want someone to be to her own son.

The familiar siren of the ambulance came closer and closer until the ambulance entryway to the ER was filled with flashes of red, blue, and white as they pulled up outside the doors. She went into action immediately, standing beside the door as the EMT's wheeled in two patients. On the first, an older man lay moaning as he held onto an arm that appeared to be broken. There was a deep gash on this forehead, but he was breathing and sitting up so she was fairly certain he'd be fine.

Cynthia directed the EMT's to room 13 and Marissa waited as the second ambulance pulled up outside. There was a different energy about this one. The EMT's rushed from the back of the ambulance, calling our orders to each other as one of then entered and began to brief Marissa on the patient they carried. She listened to him, making notes on her clipboard, keeping an eye on the doors as the next patient was rolled in.

She drew in a breath and felt her knees go weak as the voice of the EMT beside her faded and her clipboard fell to the floor. She didn't hear the EMT as he caught her by the elbow before her legs gave way beneath her. Didn't hear him ask if she was okay or call for another nurse to come to the entryway where they stood. She saw only the small frame of the second patient as she was rolled through the doors. Her face was covered in blood and cuts, her blond hair was matted to the side of her face, her eyes closed. As Marissa's eyes raked over the woman's frame she took inventory of the injuries and felt her stomach roll. The bone in her ankle was poking through the skin, and her shoulder was turned in at an angle that could only mean it was dislocated. Already the woman's face had begun to erupt into blue and purple bruises. She was unrecognizable – to most. But Marissa gasped audibly at the realization that she knew this woman – or the girl she used to be; had seen her face in a million dreams.

It was Sam.

She didn't scream, though she felt the beginnings of one rumbling in her gut and threatening to rush out. She didn't cry, though she felt unshed tears stinging at the back of her eyelids. She merely stared, her throat so tight she opened her mouth wide on instinct, taking desperate pulls of air from the room that suddenly seemed to have shrunk around her. She reached out as the gurney passed her, aware that the EMTs were looking to her for direction that she was incapable of giving them. She stood, unmoving, running a hand over the face she thought she'd never see again.

She hear Cynthia come up beside her, felt her cool hands on her elbow as she told the EMTs which room to take Sam to. She tried to speak, tried to help them understand how important this woman was, how vital it was that she be okay. Please God let her be okay.

"Marissa? Marissa!" Cynthia's voice was strong and harsh as she held Marissa but the shoulder's, turning her so that they were face to face. "Talk to me honey!"

Marissa shook her head, her eyes closed. She tried to shake the image of Sam, broken and bruised, from her head. Tried to tell herself she'd seen wrong. That it couldn't be.

"I know her." She whispered, afraid to give any more power to her voice. "I know her."

"Who honey? The car crash victim?" She walked Marissa to the nurses' station and attempted to get her seated.

"No!" Marissa cried, finding her voice, "I can't sit down. I…I have to go to her. I have to…" her voice cracked as the tears she'd been attempting to hold at bay broke forth and ran like a river down her face. "I have to make sure she's okay!"

Cynthia's hands were firm on her shoulder as she kept Marissa in place, putting a bottle of water in her hands.

"Honey, you have to calm down." She sat on the chair opposite Marissa and rubbed slow circles into her back as she doubled over, gasping for air that refused to fill her lungs. "You have to calm down. Now tell me who she is. The EMTs said she's a Jane Doe. The car she was in was totaled, and they haven't been able to find any identification for her." Marissa looked up, her face flushed as she attempted to control her emotions, attempted to compose herself. "You know her?"

"Yes, she's my…she was my son's girlfriend. Samantha Puckett. Her name's Samantha Puckett." The facts, she needed to keep to the facts. Her normally unflinching demeanor was shattered and resisted her attempts at recovering it.

The room was suddenly a flurry of activity around them. Marissa tried not to see the ER doctors as the rushed into her room. She'd been a nurse long enough to know – it was never a good sign when doctors ran. Cynthia made a note on the chart she held and stood to her feet. Marissa stood with her, preparing to follow her to Sam's room.

"No, Marissa…you can't go in there like this. You know that."

Marissa shook her head, "You don't understand. I have to, I…please Cynthia." She pleaded, knowing even in her state that it was outside protocol for nurses to work with patients they were personally involved with. The division between professional and personal was just too difficult to make.

"Marissa, you know you can't do that. You say you know her…is her family from around here…can you find them?" Marissa nodded, slipping back into the seat she'd just vacated, already knowing and dreading the call she'd have to make. "Okay," Cynthia called over her shoulder as she headed in the direction of Sam's room, "Call someone and get them in here. This doesn't look good, get them here ASAP." She rushed into the room, pulling the curtain behind her and Marissa turned to the desk phone.

She had no idea where Sam's mother was – the last she'd heard Pam Puckett had moved to Georgia to live with her mother.

No, regardless of how things had been left six years ago, there was only one person for her to call. She picked up the phone and tried to compose herself as it rang on the other end.

"Freddie?" her voice cracked as the groggy voice on the other end responded. "I'm so sorry Freddie. It's Sam. There's been an accident."

* * *

><p>Freddie stared down at the sludge in his mug passing for coffee. It was hot, the steam rolling off and up into his face, the smell acrid and burnt, doing little to make it any more appetizing. He took a tentative sip and frowned. It tasted like his day – ruined and unsalvageable.<p>

He stood and walked into the kitchen, dumping the mess down the sink along with what remained in the coffee maker. He wasn't usually much of a coffee drinker, but he'd needed something this morning. Something to wake him up, something to make the mess he'd made of last night a bit less glaring. It hadn't helped of course. The hour or so since Sam had left had passed with maddeningly slowness. In just over sixty minutes he'd watched the once love of his life flee into the rainy morning because of his words and before he even had time to wrap his mind around it Mira had swept into his condo, sent A.J. upstairs, and spent the next half an hour giving him a lecture that made him feel like even more of a jackass than he had before she arrived.

It was strange really, hearing Mira defend Sam. Listening while she told him what he already knew – he'd taken an already bad situation and quite possibly ruined it beyond repair. And that was without him having told her exactly what had taken place. If Mira knew everything he'd done, knew the way he'd touched Sam, taken what he knew was no longer his, and then turned ice cold eyes on her and virtually thrown her out into the street, she might possibly have killed him. And he wouldn't have blamed her at all.

He shook his head and held himself over the sink, his arms tense on either side of it. This wasn't who he was; he hadn't been raised this way. All of his life he'd prided himself on being a gentleman, on treating people the way he wanted to be treated. His actions over the last 24 hours felt like putting on a spandex suit two sizes to small – it didn't fit, and it made him look like an idiot. If his mother knew…

His mother. He groaned at the thought. He was going to have to tell her, if not the details of the train wreck that was seeing Sam again, at least that Sam was in town. Then there would be questions, lots of questions. And Marissa Benson knew him better than anyone on the planet. She'd take one look in his eyes and she'd know something was wrong. So he'd have to lie, or avoid her – and neither of those options would do much to make him feel any better about the current circumstances of his life.

How had he made such a mess?

Seeing Sam again had been painful and awkward, but if he were honest, at the very furthest corner of his heart it had also made him feel something like hope. Her eyes, still the most beautiful blue he'd ever seen, looked into his and for a split second six years felt like six minutes and he remembered how looking at her used to fill him with the most exquisite kind of joy.

He could have been cordial, put on his big boy pants, and asked her about her life and her work. He could have waited until a more appropriate time and asked her all the why's he'd stored up over six years. They could have left the Gala and gone to breakfast. That greasy spoon diner she'd always been partial to was still open. They could have had chocolate chip pancakes and coffee and talked – really talked. And then maybe, after he'd asked his questions and gotten his answers, he could have brought her back her and…it would have been different. There wouldn't have been confusion and clouded bad decisions. There wouldn't have been sex tinged with anger followed by tears and her leaving again – without a goodbye.

But he hadn't done that. He hadn't been rational and level-headed. He hadn't gotten any answers and he doubted now that he ever would.

"I'm an asshole." He closed his eyes and spoke into the seemingly empty kitchen, running a hand through his hair.

"Daddy, that's a no-no word."

Freddie jumped, his eyes snapping open and resting on A.J. who stood in front of him in a Spiderman costume, holding a Captain America shield, his Ironman mask resting haphazardly on top of his head. Multi-faceted superhero.

"Sorry buddy, you're right. That wasn't a nice word."

A.J. shrugged his shoulders and headed out of the kitchen, climbing up into a chair at the dining room table. "It's okay Daddy. Mommy said some too. I heard her when you and her was talking."

"A.J, it's also not nice to eavesdrop when Mommy and Daddy are talking."

"I wasn't Daddy, I promise! Mommy was just talking really loud." He pulled his Iron Man mask from his head, setting on the table and folded his hands in front of him, studying Freddie's face. "Did you get in trouble? Did Mommy put you on punishment?"

Freddie laughed in spite of himself. Mira hadn't put him on punishment but he was pretty sure that if he didn't find a way to fix the mess he'd made, any interaction with her was going to feel like punishment.

"No, Mommy didn't put me on punishment." A.J. stared back at him with one tiny eyebrow raised in disbelief. He knew his mother too well. Attempting to change the subject, Freddie reached up into the cabinet. "How about some cereal Captain IronSpiderman?"

A.J. nodded his head, the cereal a clever enough distraction for him at four, and launched into a play by play of the night he'd spent with his grandmother. Freddie tried to concentrate on what A.J was saying. It was a distraction and he needed it. But his mind was stubborn and kept returning to the current problem. Sam was somewhere in the city, sitting in a hotel room and probably wondering what had happened to the nice guy she'd left six years ago.

'She left – she doesn't get to have an opinion on who I became in her absence,' he told himself, the lie clanging like a minor chord in his mind. He wanted to believe that. Even after all that had transpired, he wanted badly to justify it all. He wanted to be angry, as angry as he'd been when he'd told her to leave. He cringed at that thought. The anger that had rolled hot and irrational through his veins then was gone, leaving him to deal with the guilt and regret left in its place.

For the last six years he'd played over in his mind what he'd do if he ever saw Sam again. Some years the image in his head had been soft and romantic. They'd stand staring into each other eyes before she rushed at him and he scooped her up in his arms, all thoughts of why she'd left, how she'd left, unimportant as he held her tight and kissed her senseless. Then there were times when the scene had been cold and impersonal. He'd see her across a crowded room, mall, city street. They'd see each other and all the feelings he'd had - the love that had lingered alongside the anger, the hurt, all of it – would lift and he'd realize he was over her. He'd smile and she'd smile, maybe even give a polite nod, and then they'd both go their separate ways – no words necessary as they silently closed the book on who they'd once been together and apart.

But when the moment was actually there he'd nearly drowned under the unyielding waves of feelings and thoughts and memories that came one after the other with no breathing space between them. She didn't run into his arms. He didn't nod politely or walk away with closure. No, the world around him exploded and he was powerless to do anything about it. Just like that, the peace he'd carefully knitted together in her absence was gone, so quickly he wondered if it had ever really existed. Nearly every truth he'd convinced himself of over the last six years lay in tatters around him, and instead of pausing and doing what he was good at – developing a plan of action – he'd just made it worse, and now he had no idea how to fix it, or if fixing it was even an option.

"Daddy!"

A.J's voice pulled him from his thoughts and he cursed as he stared down at the table where the milk he'd been pouring into A.J's cereal bowl overflowed, forming a white lake on the wooden table.

"Sorry buddy," he said, going back into the kitchen for a new bowl, filling it, this time without incident. He pulled out a dishtowel and began to mop up the spilled milk, as A.J. dug into the sugary cereal Mira would have scolded him for offering.

"You made a mess Daddy."

Freddie stopped and looked at his son who was oblivious to the poetic irony of his words.

"Yep," he said, "Daddy made a big mess."

The familiar ring of his phone filled the room and he tossed the dishtowel into the sink before walking into the living room to grab it.

"Hey Spence."

"So…"

"So what?"

"Come on Freddie! You saw Sam for the first time in six years, then you don't call me to tell me what happened and I see Mira this morning in the hallway and she said, and I quote, "the evening was a disaster of Titanic-like proportions."

Freddie sighed. He didn't want to have this conversation.

"I don't know what to tell you Spencer."

"How about telling me why Mira is comparing the night to a historic disaster with no survivors? Or why Sam isn't answering her phone? Or why you sound like I kicked your favorite puppy?"

"Spencer, can we not talk about this now? Please?"

Spencer sighed, "That bad?"

"No, worse," he said, "but thanks for telling Mira about Sam and sending her to go with me. That helped so much."

"Really?" Spencer said brightly.

"No!" Freddie screamed into the phone, lowering his voice as A.J. turned toward him, milk dripping from his bottom lip as he stared open mouthed at his father. Mira was the yeller, A.J. wasn't used to hearing his father raise his voice. He smiled at A.J. and headed down the hall to his bedroom, closing the door behind him. "No Spencer, it was awful. Both of my exes in the same room, at the same table…"

"What?"

"Yeah, Mira arranged it. I told you, she was super helpful last night."

"Well, did you, um, talk to Sam?"

'_Yeah, then I kissed her, had sex with her, and threw her out,'_ he thought.

"Something like that," he said.

"Something like that? What's that mean?"

Freddie groaned and flopped down onto the edge of his bed. "Spencer, please! I really don't want to discuss this right now. Just take my word for it, it was awful, really truly awful and…" he looked down at his phone. Incoming call from his mother. Just great. "Listen Spencer, it's my mom on the line. I'll call you back later."

"No you won't."

"You're right, I probably won't."

"We are gonna talk about this, Freddie."

"Yeah, yeah."

"Later."

"Later." Freddie clicked over to his mother, prepared for another round of interrogation, hoping she didn't know enough to yell. He was already nursing a thundering headache. "Hey, mom."

"Freddie?" her voice broke and he immediately sat up. It sounded like she was crying. Marissa Benson didn't cry, not without good reason.

"Mom, what's wrong?" and then she said the words that turned his already broken world to ash.

"I'm so sorry Freddie." She paused, "It's Sam. There's been an accident."


	11. In His Name Part 2

**A/N:**

**Welcome back to Benediction! I know it's been forever since I updated (bet you thought I fell off a cliff, huh?). I am so sorry you had to wait so long. I have a project in the works that makes it very difficult to update this particular story – I can't share all the details just yet but, trust me, it'll be worth it (I hope. Lol).**

**Giant thanks and a virtual hugs go out to ILUVJENNETTEX on Twitter (not sure of her name on here) for all the story love. You have her to thank for getting this new chapter. She was just too excited for me not to update. And thanks to all of you who have read, reviewed and waited so patiently for me to get this chapter out. I hope you think it as worth the wait.**

**There is some medical terminology and situations in this chapter. I am not a doctor. So while I have done some research I'm sure there are errors – forgive me in advance. lol**

**So, without further ado, away we go...**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 11– In His Name, Part 2<strong>

_"It's Sam."_

_"There's been an accident."_

_"I'm so sorry."_

He'd yet to wrap his mind around it. He was barely aware of his surroundings as he sped toward the hospital. A.J. sat quietly in the backseat, aware, without Freddie saying anything, that something was wrong. Freddie looked in the rearview mirror at his son's face, frowning as the boy clutched his Ironman action figure. Freddie knew he should say something to reassure A.J. that everything was okay. But he didn't have the words – for A.J. or himself.

It was all too familiar.

_"There's been an accident."_

They were the same words spoken into the deathly silent dorm room the night Carly died. The night everything changed. He hadn't had words then either. Standing behind Sam, watching as she crumpled to the ground and the officers continued to speak words that he couldn't hear. His head was filled with questions and fear, disbelief and horror. He hadn't been sure he could handle it; the pain had been overwhelming. But looking at Sam, so broken and guilt ridden, unable even to dress herself as she sobbed, he knew there wasn't time then to deal with his own feelings. She needed him, and he'd steeled himself for whatever was going to come, determined to be there for her, to be strong for her.

And now it was déjà vu. Once again, he was filled with worry and fear; feeling his world shift out of control around him. Once again, he wondered how he'd ever be strong enough to handle the situation before him.

Carly and Sam had been the cornerstones of his life for as long as he could remember. He'd essentially lost both of them at once and that loss had nearly destroyed him. He mourned Carly, and as hard as it still was to know he couldn't just call her up or hear her voice, he'd made peace with it. But with Sam, it was a different story. He'd planned to spend his life with her, looked into his future and seen a million scenarios of happiness, all laid out with brilliant clarity. And in every one of those scenarios, it was her, smiling and beautiful – loving him.

He'd told himself he was over it, that he'd healed or at least moved on. She was gone, she wasn't coming back, and he was okay with that – or so he thought. But Sam's reappearance in his life had made one fact certain – he wasn't over it. He'd merely looked at his own pain and, just like the night Carly died, he'd come to his own rescue, covering his hurt, forcing himself to ignore what he felt, and move forward as if it didn't exist.

But now, when the possibility of losing her – really losing her-was looming in front of him, he couldn't do it. Couldn't ignore the ice-cold fear creeping through his veins. Couldn't ignore his desperate need for her to be okay. Maybe she couldn't be in his life, and maybe things would never be the way they had been between them, but the idea of living in a world where Sam didn't exist was unthinkable. And more than he had in the six years since the accident, he wished Carly was here.

When Carly died, Sam spent hours in the apartment, holding Carly's stuffed elephant Pepe and staring out at nothing. She blamed herself; she'd only said it out loud once and when she did, Freddie rushed to her side, holding her rigid form as he reassured her that she was wrong. It was an accident – no one could have stopped it.

He hadn't understood how she could think that being with Carly that night would have changed anything. If they'd been together, he'd have lost both of them. But Sam never saw it that way, no matter how vehemently he protested. She'd never mentioned it again, but he knew she still believed it.

There were nights he'd wake to an empty bed and hear her crying in the bathroom alone and in those moments he knew – they might all be hurting over losing Carly, but for Sam the pain went deeper, and it was eating her alive.

He'd tried to be supportive but as the months passed he became more and more agitated, horrified that she could think herself responsible for something so obviously not her fault. He understood her now.

_'This is all your fault.'_

He shook his head to try to remove the accusations in his mind, loud and angry, making it impossible to hear anything else. The belief went soul deep, and he knew that no amount of reassurance would convince him otherwise. He had no idea what he was going to see at the hospital-his mother refused to give him the details over the phone-but he knew that no matter what he found, the blame for it rested securely in his lap.

The loud honking of the car behind him dragged him from his thoughts. The light was green, and if the enthusiastic honking and finger waving from the driver behind him was any indication, he'd been sitting there for a while.

With a sigh, he looked out the front window and drove forward. Just ahead of him he saw the sign for Seattle General Hospital and his stomach lurched. He pulled into the parking garage, found a spot, and laid his head on the steering wheel, trying in vain to keep his hands from shaking. He wasn't sure what he was walking into, but whatever it was, he wasn't prepared for it.

"Daddy?" A.J's voice reached out to him from the back seat and he raised his head, turning toward his son. A.J.'s hand pointed out the side window. Freddie looked in the direction A.J. was pointing and saw a disheveled Mira walking toward the car.

"Alright, A.J. Time to go." Freddie reached back and unbuckled A.J.'s car seat, watching as the little boy stood and opened his door. Freddie took a deep breath and opened his own door, stepping out of the car to stand beside Mira.

"Hey." Her voice was uncharacteristically soft. "Any word yet?" Her eyes searched Freddie's face for answers as she leaned down to gather A.J. in her arms.

Freddie shook his head, and swallowed against the tightness in his throat. "Nothing more than the last time I talked to you. My mom said she'd explain everything when I got here. But it, it doesn't sound good."

Mira reached out and laid her hand on Freddie's shoulder. This was a side of him she rarely saw. Freddie was more even tempered than anyone she'd ever known. Most of his feelings seemed to exist behind a door only he had the key to. It took a lot to shake his composure. If his silence wasn't indication enough, then the dark shadows under his eyes and the firm set of his jaw were. He was hurting, and she could do nothing to stop it.

"Do you want me to come in with you?" she asked, already certain of his answer.

"No, I…I need to handle this – whatever it is-alone." He ran a hand through his hair. "But there is something you can do for me – for Sam, I mean."

"Sure, whatever you need."

"Sam doesn't have any family here, but her, um, friend – Raj. I don't think he knows. Could you go to the hotel and let him know, maybe give him a ride here?"

Mira bit her lip. Raj hadn't made much of an impression on her, but now wasn't the time to discuss her opinions of him. Freddie needed her to do something and she'd do it.

"You got it. Anything else?"

"No, that's it."

They stood in silence, neither sure of what to say. A.J. began to fidget in his mother's arms and Mira took it as her cue to leave.

"You'd probably better get in there." Freddie stood in front of her, staring at the ground, his knuckles white as they shook in fits at his side. "Freddie?" Finally, he looked up at her, his eyes red rimmed with the tears he was fighting.

"I don't think I can do this." He whispered. "What if…"

"Don't!" Mira's voice was firm as she reached out to grab his hand in her own. "Don't do this. Now isn't the time for what-ifs. Sam needs you."

He shook his head. She didn't need him. She needed someone stronger, someone who wasn't so afraid. "But…I messed up Mira. I messed up bad."

"This isn't about you Freddie! You messed up, but now you've got a chance to make it right by being there for her."

Freddie drew in a deep breath and lifted his eyes to look into Mira's. If anyone had told him twenty-four hours ago that he'd be standing here, falling apart, or that Mira would be the one holding him together, he'd never have believed it.

"You ready?" she asked.

"No. But I will be - I hope." He leaned over and placed a kiss on A.J.'s cheek, squeezing Mira's hand as he started toward the elevator.

"I'll be back as soon as I can." Mira called after him.

Freddie nodded and entered the elevator, watching as Mira placed A.J. inside her car. The elevator doors shut and he slumped against the wall. When he closed his eyes, he could see Sam, her face stained with tears as she gathered her clothes – never saying a word.

The doors opened onto the street across from the emergency room entrance. He forced himself to put one foot in front of the other and felt a cold sweat gather at the base of his neck. With measured breaths, he stood on the sidewalk outside the ER doors.

For six years, he'd imagined what it would be like to see Sam again. Now she was back, and as he walked through the sliding glass, he couldn't help but wonder if he was going to lose her again.

* * *

><p>Mira tapped her fingers impatiently on the reservation desk. She'd been talking to the gum-popping young girl behind the desk for ten minutes. The girl—her nametag said 'Candy'—didn't seem to understand the urgency of the situation.<p>

"What was the name again?" Candy asked, looking at Mira through about two coats of mascara more than she needed.

"Raj! His name is Raj…just like it was the last two times you asked me!" She leaned over the desk and Candy's eyes went wide. "Listen, I told you this is an emergency. His colleague is in the hospital and they need him there, like now! So if you could just go get your manager or someone, anyone, who can help me, I would really appreciate it!"

"I'm sorry," Candy ran an acrylic nail tipped hand through her hair, "This is my first week and I'm still new to this system and…we aren't really supposed to give out guest information so…"

"You don't have to give me the information, okay? How about this – you find him, give him a call and tell him that there's someone here to see him – about Sam."

"Sam?"

"Yes! Sam!" Mira, groaned in frustration. "Sam, his colleague – the one who's in the hospital!"

Candy cast a nervous glance at Mira and then back at her screen, typing furiously. "It would be a lot easier if you knew his last name."

Mira racked her brain, trying to remember details of the night she really wanted to forget. He'd introduced himself. Raj…

"It starts with a P. Puram, Pali…Patel!" she nearly launched herself over the desk in relief. "It's Patel! Raj Patel!"

Candy squinted at the screen, her face suddenly breaking into a smile. "Yep, there he is. Told ya it'd be easier with a last name."

Mira fought against the urge to wrap her hands around Candy's neck and instead turned her back to the desk as Candy dialed Raj's room extension. A.J. ran around her legs, his action figure lifted up to the sky in front of him. Life had suddenly gotten very complicated and she wished it could be as simple as it was for A.J.

"Mr. Patel? Yes, this is Candy from the front desk. There's a…woman here. No sir, she's not blonde. She says she's here to see you – about Pam."

"Sam!" Mira called over her shoulder.

"Sam, she's here about…pardon me? Okay, I'll ask her. Excuse me, ma'am?" Mira turned to face her. "He said to ask your name."

"Tell him it's Mira and Sam's hurt so he needs to quit asking questions and get his ass down here now!"

Candy turned back to the phone. "Um, sir? She said her name is Mira and that, um, Sam is hurt and you need…hello? Hello?" she looked at Mira, her face puzzled. "Um, I think he hung up."

Mira pushed herself up from the desk and grabbed A.J.'s hand, heading toward the elevator bay, waiting. As she reached it, the doors opened and Raj rushed out of the doors and ran directly into her, his face flushed, brow furrowed.

"Mira?" he stepped back, "What's going on? Sam's hurt? What happened?" his words ran together, barely giving Mira room to respond.

"Slow down Raj…"

"Just tell me what's going on!"

"There was an accident. Sam was in an accident and she's at the hospital now."

"An accident? I don't understand? Where was she? I've been calling her room for hours."

"She was…" She really didn't want to be the one to tell him the circumstances surrounding the accident. Even if Sam said she and Raj weren't romantically linked, it was obvious that he had feelings for her. Telling him exactly why Sam had been missing the last few hours wasn't going to end well. "Just come with me. I'll take you to the hospital and you can get your questions answered." She softened her voice. "I'm sure it's going to be fine. Let's just – let's just go see what's going on."

She placed a hand on his arm and he looked over at her, shaking his head.

"Alright. Let me just go grab my phone."

Mira nodded as Raj entered the elevator. When he returned, he had a small envelope with him, along with his cell phone. He'd changed out of the sweatpants he'd been wearing and into a pair of jeans and a GirlForce T-shirt. She gestured for him to follow her and they headed for the parking lot, neither of them speaking.

"She was with him, wasn't she?" His voice was soft but intense as Mira fastened her seatbelt and paused, looking over at him. "With…Freddie, that's where she was right?" He stared out the front window, his jaw tight, shoulders slumped.

"Do you really want me to answer that?"

"No. I guess I don't."

Mira started the car, pulling out into traffic, heading toward the hospital. The next few minutes were painfully silent as they rode through the busy Seattle streets.

"So… how long?"

Raj turned to her, "How long what?"

"How long have you been in love with her?"

He sighed and leaned his head back against the seat. He didn't speak, just sat stock still with his eyes closed.

"You don't really want me to answer that do you?" His attempt at a joke was lost in the somber mood that hovered over them.

Mira paused at a stop light and turned to look at him. "Yes actually, I would."

Raj sighed and sat up, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. "Is it that obvious?"

"Only to people with eyes." She said kindly, turning as she pulled again into traffic.

"Too long," he answered, his voice low, his eyes focused ahead of him. He stared out of the front window but his eyes seemed to be looking at something only he could see. "There's nothing worse than loving someone who can never love you back."

Mira gave a wry smile. "Mr. Patel, you're preaching to the choir."

The car settled back into tense silence as Mira pulled into the hospital parking garage. Turning into a parking spot near the bank of elevators, she turned off the ignition and paused, hands in her lap.

"Listen Raj, I don't know you, and I can't pretend to know what you must be feeling right now, but…I think I understand, at least a little. If it were Freddie…I don't know what I'd do." She turned to look at him. "I'm…well, I'm sorry."

"Don't!" His voice was firm and his eyes full of fire when he turned a glance toward her. "Don't talk about her like…like she's gone already."

"I didn't mean to…"

"I know what you meant but, no offense, I don't need you to say you're sorry. Sam's a fighter. It doesn't matter what's going on in there. She's going to be okay." He opened his door and looked over his shoulder at her. "She has to be."

Following him into the hospital, A.J's hand wrapped tightly in her own, she could only hope for all of their sakes that Raj was right.

* * *

><p>He hated hospitals.<p>

The antiseptic smell, the steady hums and beeps of machines that sounded so routine – if you could ignore the fact that many of them were the only thing standing between the life and death of those lying still in the rooms around him. There was life here, to be sure: babies being born, lives being saved. But there was also death, cold and unyielding, present despite the doctors' and nurses' best attempts to keep it at bay. Slipping in to draw out people's last breath even as their families and friends sat by watching, waiting - praying.

For as many smiling, balloon-carrying visitors as there were in this place, there were likely twice as many just like him. Sitting in a hallway, holding a stale cup of coffee, wishing there was something he could do to fix the situation in front of him. He looked at his watch and back down the hall at the room he wasn't allowed into. No one seemed to understand. He didn't _want _to be in there – he _needed _to be in there. The small blond woman who lay, unconscious, in that bed was the thread that ran though his whole life. Everything he was and everything he knew was somehow tied to her and not being able to help, to just be there – the helplessness of it was suffocating him.

He'd asked his mother to do something, grease the wheels, whatever she had to, to get him into that room. Her hands were tied. Sam's situation was pretty serious at the moment, and no one outside of family was allowed in the room. The best he'd been able to do was peek into the small windowed opening to the side of the room's door. What he'd seen had made him nauseated.

Her face was a mask of bruises. They'd cleaned her up, his mother said, she looked better than when she came in. He could scarcely imagine that. She was still, her hair spilling around her on the pillow she lay on. It struck him as odd; in all the time he'd known her it was rare for her to be immobile. So, for him, it wasn't the machines she was hooked to or the steady stream of doctors and nurses walking in and out of the room that brought home the seriousness of the situation to him. It was her, lying unmoving, like the princess in some twisted version of a fairy tale.

He looked at his watch and wondered where Mira was. She should be here, with Raj, by now. And while he wasn't exactly looking forward to being in the same room with Sam's colleague, he did wish Mira was here. With her biting, sometimes inappropriate, sense of humor – if she was here she'd help him take his mind off of this, or at least help him believe everything would be okay, somehow.

"Freddie?" his mother's voice pulled him from his thoughts. She approached him from the direction of Sam's room, a doctor walking behind her. "Honey, this is Dr. Nazardian. He's the doctor in charge of Sam's care."

Freddie stood up and shook the doctor's hand when he approached them.

"Is she okay? Can I see her?" He felt his mother's hand, soft and reassuring on his shoulder.

"We've got Sam sedated right now. Her injuries, most of them, aren't life threatening." He consulted the clipboard he held in his hands. "She has a dislocated shoulder, which we've set. Bruising and cuts from the impact and we believe a concussion."

"So if that's all that's wrong, why is she sedated?"

Dr. Nazardian looked up from the clipboard. "Well, the majority of her injuries weren't serious but there are a few that concern us. She has a complete break of the fibula. It came through the skin and we need to get that set, however her blood pressure is dangerously low which inhibits the safety level associated with all but life saving surgeries. But that isn't our main concern."

"What is?"

"Well, it appears Ms. Puckett is bleeding internally. At the moment we aren't sure why. We're prepping her for CT scan but, I have to tell you, her vital signs are unstable which, in cases like these, is often associated with a splenic rupture." Freddie looked to his mother.

"A ruptured spleen, honey."

"Her low blood pressure is a sign to us that this may be especially severe."

The elevator bay behind them dinged and Marissa placed a hand on Freddie's shoulder, pointing toward the opening elevator doors. Raj, looking as weary as Freddie felt, walked toward them, nodding his head in recognition.

"Freddie."

"Raj."

"Isn't Mira with you?"

"Freddie honey, she's probably in the lobby with A.J. He's too young to be in here." Marissa extended her hand to Raj. "Hello, I'm Freddie's mother, Marissa. I was on duty when Sam came in."

"Nice to meet you." Raj said, "Is she okay? Can I see her?

"They aren't letting anyone in." Freddie said pointing toward Dr. Nazardian, "This is Dr. Nazardian, he's in charge of Sam's care."

"Good to meet you doctor. Can you tell me what's going on?"

"I was just explaining to Mr. Benson that Sam's vital signs have become unstable in the last half hour. We suspect internal bleeding, possibly due to a splenic rupture."

"Oh my God," Raj said, covering his mouth, "What happened? How did this happen?" he said, turning to Freddie.

Freddie sighed and lowered his head, unable to meet Raj's eyes. "She was in a car accident. She swerved into the oncoming traffic and was hit head on."

"Where was she coming from?" Raj's eyes narrowed and Freddie suspected that he already knew the answer the question he was asking. Dr. Nazardian cleared his throat to interrupt them.

"I'm sorry but right now the why's of Ms. Puckett's case are not as important as the what's. This is serious and in situations like this we like to have the family sign off on the course of treatment. If the CT scan confirms our suspicions we'll need to prep her immediately for surgery. Now, do any of you know of a family member we can contact? Someone with rights to make medical decisions for her?"

"I do." Raj said, extending a manila envelope to Marissa. "I have her Power of Attorney."

Freddie was speechless, staring at Raj open-mouthed. It was rational. He knew that. Sam lived on another continent. It only made sense for her to have someone in close proximity who could step in if something happened to her. But the idea that this man played such an important role in Sam's life – her new life, felt like razor wire being scraped over a newly opened wound. This man was Sam's family now.

"Excellent," Dr. Nazardian said, making a note on his clipboard. "If you'll follow me Mr…"

"Patel. Rajesh Patel."

"Right, if you'll follow me Mr. Patel, I'll let you see her before we take her."

Raj started off down the hall toward Sam's room and on instinct Freddie followed until he felt his mother pull at his shirt sleeve.

"Freddie, wait."

"No mom, he's going to let us see Sam." He yanked his arm away from her. "I have to go." He turned again to leave and this time his mother moved to stand in front of him, blocking his way.

"No Freddie." She shook her head, "Dr. Nazardian said he'd take Raj to see her. He's her power of attorney. He…he has rights that…."

"That what?" Freddie said, his voice raising.

"That you don't have." His mother's voice was a whisper. "Dr. Nazardian did me a favor by telling you what was going on with Sam. We can always chalk that up to you needing to know so you could notify her family but…seeing her, in the condition she's in. They can't allow it."

"I don't understand," He said, his voice cracking. "I need to be in there. She…she needs me, Mom."

Marissa's eyes filled with tears, "I'm so, so sorry Freddie, but as far as the hospital is concerned, that young man in there – he's her family."

Freddie stumbled backwards and dropped into a waiting room chair, his mother's words like a slap in the face.

Raj was her family.

Freddie was not.

The reality of the situation stole the air from his lungs and he struggled to maintain his composure, struggled against his desire to run down the hall and force his way into that room.

His mother knelt beside his chair, her hands on the arm rests. "Freddie, listen to me." He raised his head reluctantly to look at her. He tried to focus. The sound of his own heart thudding in his chest made it difficult to hear the words coming from her mouth. "Sam is going to be okay. Do you hear me?"

Freddie nodded.

"She's a fighter, always has been, you're just going to have to hold onto that. Believe in that."

He nodded again and only when the stinging heat of tears began to pool at his chin did he realize he was crying. He couldn't do this. He wasn't strong enough. He wanted to believe, but fear crept into him, settling in his bones.

"But Mom, what if…"

"No! Stop it right now Fredward Benson." His mother was crying along with him now. Her jaw was set firm but her eyes welled with tears. "You cannot do this! Sam can't give up…and neither can you."

There was a scream, barely concealed under the surface of his mind. It echoed through his body, rippling in his chest but he could not let it free. If he started screaming now he might never stop. And so he nodded, not trusting his own voice.

His mother moved to the chair beside him and grabbed his hand. They sat together, fingers intertwined; staring in the direction of the girl they'd loved, lost and feared losing again. Five minutes later, the door to Sam's room opened and Raj stepped out, shaking the doctor's hand then moving to the side as the bed holding Sam's still form was wheeled out into the hallway and toward a bank of elevators. Raj stood watching until Sam's bed disappeared, then turned and stared at Freddie for an impossibly long moment. A million words were silently exchanged and when Raj began to walk toward him Freddie steeled himself for a show down.

"Mrs. Benson," Raj said to Marissa, "Could you please give me a moment to talk to your son?"

Marissa looked between the two men, both now openly staring at each other, Raj the picture of anger, Freddie's face filled with guilt and frustration. Freddie nodded at his mother and she walked away slowly, glancing over her shoulder every few steps.

"So…you wanted to talk."

Raj's eyes were angry narrow slits, "What the hell happened?"

"Sam was in an accident and…"

"I know that part you idiot! What happened before that? _Why _was she in an accident?" he raised a hand as Freddie began to speak, "And save the five o'clock news details for someone else. I talked to Mira, I know you had something to do with this. What the hell did you do?"

"Sam was at my house…"

"Why?"

"I don't really see how that's any of your business."

"What happens to Sam is my business!"

"Oh, please!" Freddie said, having taken as much self-righteous chastisement as he could. "You can stop pulling the 'we're in love' bit! I know the truth – you're Sam's friend, her colleague, and that's all! So you can quit throwing your weight around like…"

"Like I'm more important to her than you?" his mouth stretched into a sneer as he stepped closer to Freddie. "It burns you up doesn't it? Knowing that you have no power here, no say. Knowing that I'm the one she's counting on. I'm the one…"

"Oh, so we're gonna have a pissing contest now?" Freddie said, not backing down. "This is just proof that you don't deserve her. She's fighting for her life and you're fighting – for what?"

"For her!"

"For Sam? For her life…" his voice was ice cold, "or for her to love you." Raj flinched and took a small step back. It was all Freddie needed. "But that's what burns you up isn't it Raj? That you've been there for her for six years, probably loved her for six years and at the end of the day…she's still not yours."

He'd gone too far but the words were already said, there was no way to take them back. He could have said worse, could have said that Raj was jealous that he, not Raj, was the one that Sam loved. But even in anger that was an assumption he could not make. A statement his pain would not let him accept as truth.

The stood staring at each other, the weight of Freddie's words hanging heavy between them. Neither moved, each resisting the urge to make the fight physical. Raj, finally, moved first. Shaking his head he gave a mirthless laugh.

"I don't have time for this. And it doesn't matter anyway. As soon as this is all over, Sam will be on a plane headed back to India. The place she wanted to be…without you." Turning on his heel, he headed down the hall toward Sam's room, leaving Freddie to deal with the painful truth that Raj was right.

He sat heavily in a chair, pulling out his phone to call Liz. She answered on the first ring and, as usual seemed to know all about the situation before he did.

"How are you holding up, boss?" she asked, her voice filled with concern.

"I've been better, Liz. Listen, I'm not going to be in today – possibly not tomorrow either. If there are any issues…"

"I've got it. Your mom called. She said your friend was hurt pretty badly."

"Yeah, Sam."

"The one from the webshow…"

"That's the one." He knew that Liz understood. She was one of the few people in his life currently that he spoke to about iCarly. She knew about Carly. She understood how serious this all was.

"Don't worry. I'll handle things. It's really quiet around here today and if anything comes up, I know where to find you."

"Thank Liz, you're a life saver…I don't pay you enough."

She laughed. "I'll remind you of that when it's annual review time."

"Alright. I'd better go, have to go find Mira and A.J."

"Sure thing, and Freddie – let me know if you need anything. You know I'm here."

"Thanks Liz, that means a lot. Talk to you later."

He hung up the phone and stood to his feet. He was tired. He hadn't had much sleep and the last two days were starting to run together in his mind. One impossibly long space of time during which his world was all but crumbling. At least that's how it felt. Taking the elevator to the main floor he spotted Mira standing near a bank of windows, staring out into the street – and A.J. fast asleep in a chair beside her.

"Hey," he said, approaching her from behind.

"Hey yourself," she said, turning to him. "How's everything…how's Sam?"

"Not good." he said, leaning down to pick up A.J. and sit in the seat he'd occupied. He wrapped his arms around the small boy, closed his eyes and let the feeling of A.J.'s heart beating against his own comfort him. Opening his eyes he looked over to Mira who'd taken a seat in the chair next to his. "She's got a dislocated shoulder, a concussion, a broken leg and she's all bruised up." He shook his head trying to rid himself of the image of a battered Sam lying deathly still. "But the worst part, the part they're worried about, is that it appears that she's bleeding internally. Her vitals are all over the place and the doctor thinks maybe she's ruptured her spleen."

Mira whistled and leaned over her knees, turning her head to look up at Freddie. "Have you been in to see her?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"They won't let me in."

"What?!"

"I'm not family although, apparently, this guy Raj is so he's in there now. They just took her to get a CT scan."

"Well, maybe we can ask Raj to let you…"

"He's not going to let me see her." There was finality in his answer that kept Mira silent.

He looked across the waiting room and saw his mother hurrying toward them.

"Freddie," she said, "I've been looking for you."

Freddie stood up, passing A.J. off to Mira, "What! What happened? Is Sam alright?"

"Well, yes…and no. Dr. Nazardian was right, her spleen is ruptured – it's causing the internal bleeding and the drop in blood pressure."

"So what are they going to do?"

"Normally, if the spleen were only damaged, they'd do an embolization but in this case there is a complete rupture. They have to do surgery immediately or else…"

"Or else what? Mom, don't tell me that…"

"Freddie," she said taking his hands, "I told you, Sam is going to be okay. They found out the source of the problem before any irreversible damage is done. She's being attended by some of the best physicians in the city. She's in good hands."

"And you'll let me know?"

"As soon as I hear anything I'll let you know. Until then, why don't you go home and get some sleep?"

"No! I'm not leaving until…until I know she's okay."

Marissa nodded her head. She understood. Her shift would be over soon but she knew that even once she'd clocked out she'd still be here – looking over Sam, making sure everything was okay. She'd missed out on six years of looking out for her – she wouldn't let her down now.

Freddie walked back to his seat.

"What can I do?" Mira asked.

"The same thing any of us can," Freddie said. "Wait...and pray."

* * *

><p><strong>AN2: Whoa…that was hard to write! Reward me for ripping my own heart out by leaving a review?**

**Also, if you have the time, there are some Seddie authors whose stories I really enjoy. If you check them out I promise you'll be glad you did.**

**AnnieRocket, DwynArthur, WhiteKnightro, Lackadaisical Pajamas, TheSamGirl, ExpressionsofAWriter, MelsGvardo, moviepal, pigwiz.**

**Know of some great fan fic authors? PM me, I'd love to hear your faves.**


	12. In His Name - Part 3

**A/N:**

**Hello readers! I'm baaack! Did you miss me? No? Oh, well, I'm back anyway.**

**So glad you've come back for another chapter of 'Benediction'. It's been a while since the last update so let me do a little recap. When we left off Freddie was dealing with Sam's sudden return and equally sudden car accident. He's at the hospital, waiting for news on her condition and he and Raj...aren't seeing eye to eye (understatement of the year). This chapter will begin to turn the tide, so to speak, toward a bit less angst and a bit more happiness for our favorite couple. But don't breath too deeply on that sigh of relief, you know me…the drama will return. *MUAH HA HA HA!* (that was my evil laugh…did it scare you?).**

**XXOO – TheWrtrInMe**

**Disclaimer: At this point I'm glad to say I don't own iCarly. I wouldn't want to accept responsibility for the disaster that was iGoodbye.**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 12: In His Name – Part 3<strong>

_The room was stark white, the lights above bright and intrusive. _

_This was not a room to hide in. _

_The steady ticking of a clock was the soft backbeat to the constant hum and whir of the machines placed around the shining chrome table. The table was situated at the center of the room, a small stage around which the bit players performed while the star lay motionless._

_The star's skin was paper-thin, translucent, making the network of veins running down her forearm sickeningly vibrant. He found himself reaching out, wanting to touch her, hoping that once his skin made contact with hers, she would evaporate like smoke and provide him with some proof that this wasn't real. _

_He hadn't realized just how loud it all was, the machines, the voices, until the room was filled with one long uninterrupted beep – and the world went silent._

_"Call it. Time of death. 2:45pm."_

Freddie jerked awake, temporarily disoriented. He ran a hand over his face, trying to adjust to his surroundings. Looking around the waiting room of the ICU, he found that while he was asleep he'd been joined by several families. In the corner of the room a tall African American woman, her head adorned with an intricate network of braids, stood staring out of the window. Her face was a mask that all the inhabitants of this room wore to varying degrees: worry, fear, hope. Directly across from him an older woman, gray hair pinned back haphazardly from her face, stared intently at the phone in her hands. From time to time her brow would furrow and she'd mutter under her breath as she pushed button after button. Feeling Freddie's eyes on her she looked up and offered him a smile.

"My kids made me get this thing," she said. "They keep sending me messages and I can't figure out how to send one back."

Freddie stood and stretched, his time in the chair having worked a deep kink into his back. Walking over to the older woman, he sat down beside her, looking at the phone she held.

"Oh, that's an older model pearPhone …not known for being user friendly," he said, reaching out for it. "May I?"

"Please do!" her voice held the faint remnants of an accent – New Jersey maybe, "My name is Greta," she said, extending her hand to him.

"Freddie,"

"Well, Freddie, if you can teach me how to work this thing there's a dentist in Tacoma who would be very grateful." She laughed as Freddie raised an eyebrow, not entirely sure who she was talking about. "My son, Joseph," from the large handbag taking up most of the chair beside her she pulled a small wallet. Opening it, a cascade of connected plastic sleeves unfolded, settling at her feet. "He's our oldest. Has his own practice in Tacoma – gave me my first set of dentures!" she smiled down at the photo before showing it to Freddie, obviously proud. The man in the picture was short, and broad shouldered, wearing a white lab coat with 'Joseph Soloman, DDS' emblazoned on the pocket. He had the slightly pained look of a person who did not enjoy being photographed. "And this is Dena. She's a school teacher out in California. Got two boys – twins." From inside the plastic sleeve a petite brunette, who could have been Greta thirty years ago, smiled out at them. A tall blond man sat behind her, one arm slung around her shoulder possessively. On either side of them sat two small boys – the image of their father, like freckled, large toothed bookends.

"Good looking family," Freddie said.

"This one," Greta said, her voice soft, "This is my Barry." The picture was of a short, stocky man in military dress – the Army, Freddie guessed. In the picture he stood, smiling proudly, his arm wrapped around a beautiful woman, her dark brown hair falling in curls down her back. She wore a simple white dress and held a bouquet of lilies. "That's our wedding day." She took in Freddie's appreciative look, "I was quite, as you young people say, a 'hottie' in my day." She chuckled and ran a finger over Barry's photographed face.

"Is he…" Freddie stuttered, "I mean, is that why you're…"

"Why I'm here? Yes." She folded her pictures, closing her wallet and placing it back in her bag. "Heart attack. Triple bypass."

"My father…he had a heart attack," Freddie offered.

"It's a hard thing to watch someone you love be sick, or in pain. Even harder to think about losing them." Greta reached out and patted Freddie's hand. "Is that why you're here? For your father?"

"Oh, um, no. He passed away when I was five. I'm here for my…" It had been years since he'd attributed any sort of title to Sam. He was suddenly overwhelmed with the realization, not of who she was to him – but who she wasn't. "My friend…Sam." He reached into his pocket for his wallet. Opening it, he dug his finger into a long avoided compartment, drawing out a picture he'd forced himself not to look at for years.  
>The photo was creased and worn but staring out from it were the faces of a boy and a girl. A couple standing on a beach, their arms wrapped around each other, unaware of how short lived their happiness would be. He looked at the photo for a split second then passed it over to Greta.<p>

"You said her name was…"

Freddie's eyes were drawn back to the picture, "Sam…it's Samantha but she'd kill you if you called her that." He chuckled.

"And that's your…friend, huh," she asked, studying Freddie's face. "That look on your face says she's more than a friend."

She handed the photo back to Freddie who stared down at it, nodding his head. "She was…almost my fiancée once. A long time ago." He wasn't sure why he was telling her any of this – things he'd not spoken of, to anyone, in years.

"Ended bad?"

"Really bad."

"But you still love her," she said. Freddie's silence was answer enough. He folded the photo again, placing it back in his wallet. Finally, he looked up at her.

"Doesn't really matter now."

Greta nodded her head and they were silent for a moment, Freddie looking down at Greta's phone, determining if the text feature worked and how best to explain its use. Anything to avoid discussing the mess that was he and Sam. Greta, thankfully, didn't seem to want to push the issue at the moment. He leaned over, placing the phone back in her hand and began to show her slowly and patiently how to use the text feature. Clicking a recent message from Joseph the dentist, she typed in a reply and sent it off. Her face broke into a wide smile, seconds later, when Joseph's reply came through on the screen.

"Well, would ya look at that!" she exclaimed.

"Looks like you're all set Greta." He stood from his seat. "It was nice to meet you. I hope everything is okay with your husband." He turned toward the elevator bay.

"Young man!" Greta's voice called to him and he turned to face her. "I've been called a nosy so and so more than once in my life, but I've never let that stop me before so I don't suppose I'll start now." She patted the seat beside her and he sat again looking into her face.

He didn't have grandparents he was close to. His mother's parents had both died before he was born. His father's mother lived in Philadelphia and his communication with her was limited to Christmas and birthday cards. But if he'd had a grandmother in his life, he thought he'd want her to be something like Greta. Even though she seemed close to seventy, there was a classic beauty to her face. An easy smile softened her features and accentuated her twinkling green eyes. He bet she was the sort of grandmother who'd 'just happen' to make the cookies you loved when she knew you'd be visiting. Whose house was filled with secret hiding places. Whose hugs were tight and tinged with the smell of Aqua Net and peppermint. She appeared the sort of woman who loved hard and lived full.

"You know, Barry and I have been married for fifty-two years." She laughed as Freddie's eyes widened, "I know. I can't believe it myself sometimes. We got married the day after I graduated high school –it wasn't fancy or anything, but it was the happiest I have ever been. In these fifty years there's been good – but there's been some bad too."

"Really bad?" he asked, fairly sure of where she was headed.

Greta laughed, "You don't know the half of it Freddie. We've had fights that I was sure would be the end of us. And there were days when I had my bags packed, ready to walk out the door and leave him to his sorry self." She laughed.

"But you didn't," he said. "You stayed."

"I did. But it wasn't easy. And there's only one reason why I did it."

"Because you loved him."

She shook her head, "Because not being with him isn't an option." She looked at him intently. "This young woman…Sam you said her name was?" Freddie nodded, "Do you love her?" Freddie stared at her, silent. "You don't have to answer that, it's written all over your face." Greta, leaned in close, her voice unwavering.

"If you're sitting in this room it's because you were just as close to losing her as I was my Barry. You said loving her doesn't matter, but I think you're wrong. If she's hurt and the only place you can possibly think to be is by her side. If you don't even care anymore what got you mad at her in the first place because all you want is for her to be okay. If that's how you feel about her then, pardon me, you'd be a dummy to say it didn't matter. And even dumber to let her go."

A doctor rounded the corner, headed toward Greta and Freddie.

"Mrs. Soloman?"

Greta, gripped the armrest, attempting to stand. Freddie stood quickly and reached down, placing a hand on her elbow to help her up.

"That's me."

"Your husband is out of surgery. He's in recovery but I can take you to his room."

Greta's smile brought a smile to Freddie's face. Somewhere in this hospital, a man he'd only ever know as Greta's husband Barry was okay- and he was happy about it. Greta hurried off after the doctor, her enormous bag pulling one shoulder lower than the other. Watching her walk away, he thought about the children whose pictures she carried in that bag and wondered if they knew just how lucky they were.

"It was nice to meet you Greta!" Freddie called after her. She said something to the doctor who stopped and waited as she walked back to where Freddie stood. Reaching up, her face serious, she placed her hands on either side of his face and whispered. "You remember what I said Freddie. It matters…it always matters." With a smile, she set off behind the doctor and was gone.

Freddie sat down and shook his head. If he'd given them any thought, Greta's parting words, he might have decided she was right. But in this moment he didn't have the energy to concentrate on anything beyond Sam – and if she was okay. The uncertainty of it all, the fact that in less than an hour he might be forced to face living in a world without her, it was all too much. He'd never considered himself especially devout or religious, but as he closed his eyes, leaning over his knees he prayed, to whatever God might be listening, that the odds would come out in Sam's favor.

"Freddie?"

He looked up and squinted realizing that for the briefest of moments he must have fallen asleep. Spencer stared down at him, concern painting his features. It wasn't often that he'd seen Spencer be serious about anything. The look on Spencer's face was just further reminder of the last time they'd found themselves huddled together in a hospital waiting room; of how much they'd lost then and how much they stood to lose now.

He'd called Spencer when Sam went into surgery, giving him as much detail as he could, fighting to remain calm as he heard the panic in Spencer's voice.

"Hey, Spence."

Spencer sat down, stretching his long legs in front of him, arms crossed over his chest.

"I got here just as soon as I could," he said, looking around the room before his eyes settled again on Freddie. "So, have you heard anything?"

"Not yet, she's still in surgery," Freddie said. "But if her personal body guard has anything to say about it I'll never know how she's doing." He frowned at the thought and bit back the anger creeping up like acid in his throat.

"Freddie…"

"I'm sorry, I'm just…on edge I guess."

"So I suppose there's no reason to ask how you're holding up."

Freddie shrugged, "I don't know. I just feel so…"

"Helpless?" Spencer offered, "Yeah, I get that. I've been there."

"I'm sorry Spence. I know this must be hard for you. I didn't mean…"

Spencer held up his hand, "No apologies needed. We're all worried, but for Sam's sake, and yours, you've got to calm down."

"How can I? I mean she's hurt and I don't know…" he lowered his head and his voice, "I don't know if she's going to come out of this."

"Stop it." Spencer's voice was firm, but the hand he placed on Freddie's shoulder was reassuring. "Don't talk like that. You can't talk like that. Sam's going to be fine."

"You can't know that that's true."  
>"And you can't know that it's not. So isn't it better to just hope and pray for the best?"<p>

Freddie fell silent and leaned against the chair, closing his eyes. He knew Spencer was right but the fear that had twisted itself around his heart wasn't so easily dismissed.

"So," Spencer said, breaking the silence, "This all happened after…"

"After I threw her out into the street?" Freddie said, his words tinged with sarcasm and regret. "Yeah."

"You know this isn't your fault Freddie. Whatever happened with you and Sam," he raised a hand to stop Freddie from interrupting, "whatever happened with you and Sam, no matter how bad it was – it's not why this happened. You couldn't have stopped it, or changed it. Sometimes bad shit, it just…happens."

They lapsed into silence, each of them hoping the same thing.

That history wouldn't repeat itself.

* * *

><p>"Mama, why did Daddy look so sad?"<p>

Mira braced herself. It was a part of being a mother, finding simple ways to explain complicated things. Thankfully, in the way of most four year olds, A.J. had already asked this question. She repeated the only explanation she'd been able to give – knowing it was going to kick off another round of questions she hardly had answers for.

"Daddy's sad because his friend got hurt."

"His friend the pretty lady with the yellow hair?" Mira nodded at A.J., who peered at her from his spot beside her on the sofa, "Her name is Sam, Mama. Daddy has pictures of her."

She nodded again, and fidgeted in her seat.

_He has a picture of her._

It wasn't news. She'd seen a picture of Sam…probably the same one as A.J. But something about hearing it from his mouth made her uncomfortable. And now that she'd seen Sam in the flesh there was no denying the truth. Sam wasn't just some ghost, a fixture of some long ago part of Freddie's life that didn't exist anymore. She was real. She was here. And Mira had a feeling that the recent turn of events would send her back into all of their lives in a way she hadn't expected – or had time yet to adjust to.

"Mama!" A.J.'s voice pulled her from her thoughts. "Is Daddy gonna stay at the hospital?"

"Yep…for now."

"But I wanna see him!"

"I'm sure he wants to see you too honey, and he will, as soon as he makes sure his friend is okay." She reached over and ruffled his hair. "You'll see him before you know it."

A.J. frowned and Mira prepared herself for a tantrum – something he'd taken to doing lately when it seemed life wasn't going to go his way- but A.J simply nodded his head, slipped his fingers into his mouth, and rested his head in her lap.

"I love you Mama."

She blinked back tears, glad he was too occupied with the television to see her face. Afraid to let loose the sob pushing against her chest. How could A.J. know what that small act meant to her? How could he know how desperately grateful she was, or how bittersweet it all felt. Freddie's heart might belong to Sam but the boy nestled in Mira's arms,– that would always be the best of Freddie, the part of him that would always be hers.

The rest of the afternoon was filled with more questions.

_Was Daddy's friend going to be okay?_

_Would they give her a Spiderman band-aid for her boo-boo and a lollipop for not crying?_

_Why was he too little to stay at the hospital with Daddy?_

_Did she like Daddy's friend?_

She answered his questions as patiently and honestly as she could manage.

Yes, she hoped Daddy's friend would be okay.

No, Sam's boo-boo was too big for a Spiderman band-aid, but maybe when she was better A.J. could bring her a lollipop.

Daddy had to stay and make sure Sam was okay, but as soon as he could he'd come home and A.J. could be with him.

But the last question made her pause.

_Did she like Sam?_

That was a loaded question if she'd ever heard one. If anyone had asked her this a month ago, or even forty-eight hours ago, the answer would have been simple.

Hell no.

Of course not. Why would she like a woman who'd ripped out the heart of someone she cared about, single-handedly ensuring that he'd never be whole enough to give that heart to anyone else? This woman she'd never met had affected her life in profound ways – most of them negative. Some would say she was entitled to anger, maybe even hate. But she couldn't deny that since meeting Sam, and talking to her, she found it hard to hold onto what she'd felt before. She'd resented the_ idea_ of Sam, but Sam wasn't just an idea now. She was a real person and that, coupled with what she now knew were the actual circumstances of her relationship with Freddie, changed things.

She loved Freddie, the only man she'd ever really loved. She'd had relationships, some hot and heavy ending with fireworks and cold shoulders, some tepid and boring, not so much ending as fading away. But loving Freddie, it was the first time she'd ever considered someone else's happiness as important as her own.

Sitting with Sam, hearing her talk about what she and Freddie had shared, it was like someone was finally giving voice to the silent _thing_ that had been the third party in her relationship with Freddie from the beginning. What had sometimes felt like a void between them that she couldn't seem to cross wasn't a void at all. She was a flesh and blood person, a love so intricately woven into the fabric of who he was that no amount of pressing or pushing on Mira's part could have made a difference. He belonged to someone else. It hurt to think of it – she hoped that would get better with time – but regardless of how it hurt, it was still a fact. One she'd have to learn to live with.

She reached over and pulled the blanket up around A.J. who looked to finally be falling asleep.

"Mama?" She smiled at his voice, soft and unsure, his face more serious than any four year old's should be. He was so like his father.

"Yes A.J."

"I hope Daddy feels better…and Miss Sam too."

"Me too, baby. Me too." she said, and in a quiet part of her heart where resentment was slowly being replaced with acceptance, she meant it.

* * *

><p>He stood in the waiting room, his mother on one side and Spencer on the other, both of them attempting to calm him down. Sam had just gotten out of surgery. His mother had walked into the waiting room with Dr. Nazardian, a hopeful smile playing on her lips.<p>

According to Dr. Nazardian, the surgery had gone well. Sam was alive. They'd stopped the internal bleeding but once inside they'd discovered her spleen was too damaged to repair – they'd had to remove it. He'd spent another five minutes giving them the details of her condition but, for Freddie, one sentence played over again and again.

_Sam was alive._

_Sam was alive._

There wasn't much else that mattered.

She had been taken to the recovery room and he'd stood at that news, preparing to go see her but his mother had placed a hand softly on his shoulder. He'd started to ask her why, why he couldn't see her, why they'd keep her from him, but the sound of someone clearing their throat stopped him.

He'd looked up to find Raj standing behind them, arrogant smile fixed to his face. Dr. Nazardian nodded at Marissa and excused himself, walking back toward the patient rooms.

"So," Raj said, "she's out of surgery…but I guess you heard that already."

"Yeah, we did." Freddie said, standing and walking toward Raj, feeling Spencer right behind him. "So when do we get to see her?"

"They'll bring her up to her room in an hour or so," his mother said.

"She'll come back here?" Freddie asked.

"No, she'll be taken to a regular, private room."

Freddie face lit up, "Great!" he said, headed toward the bank of elevators, purposely ignoring Raj, "So we can just go up and wait for her right?"

Raj laughed and the sound raked across Freddie's already frayed nerves. "Wrong actually." he said, holding up the small manila envelope that Freddie had grown to hate. "I've instructed the hospital staff that you're not to be allowed in her room." He looked at Freddie's mother. "And I'm sure that none of the staff would go against hospital regulation to make an exception for you."

"Wait a minute…" Spencer said, turning to Marissa in confusion. "We don't get to see Sam?"

"No, Spencer – you're welcome to see her," Raj said, his eyes dark as he stared at Freddie, "He's the only one who's not allowed in."

"You got to be fucking kidding me!" Freddie yelled, "She's hurt and laying in a hospital bed…"

"And whose fault is that!?" Raj said, his smug grin turning to a sneer, his voice strained and cold.

"How dare you!" He stalked toward Raj, shrugging off his mother's attempts to hold him back. "You're about ten seconds from ending up in a bed right beside her."

"Is that supposed to scare me?" Raj stood his ground, face flushed, his hands flexed in fists at his side.

"Both of you stop it right now!" Marissa's voice left no room for protest and the entire room went silent as she stood between the two of them, her hands pressed against their chests. "I can't believe you – either of you!" she frowned but refused to move. Freddie's breath came hard and fast, his heart racing as he imagined what it would feel like to knock the smug grin off of Raj's face. "Is this really what you think Samantha needs? The two of you fighting like children?"

Both men stood staring at each other, neither willing to give an inch, regardless of the truth of Marissa's words or the inappropriateness of their interaction. Freddie's jaw tensed, the adrenaline pumping through him screamed at him to do something – anything to wipe the look off of this cocky bastard's face.

"Now you listen to me, both of you," Marissa said, her voice low and measured. She looked between them but didn't move her hands – a good idea Freddie thought, since her presence was likely the only thing standing between him and felony assault charges.

"Raj, I'm sorry but that Power of Attorney you hold doesn't give you any right to say who can and cannot see Samantha."

Raj's eyes went wide as he opened his mouth to speak.

Being a better man, one above gloating, was an option. One Freddie resisted the urge to take.

"No point in waving your stupid papers around now, huh, you smug son of a…"

"Fredward Benson!"

Even at his age, when he knew rationally that the threat in his mother's voice held no real weight, he stopped, his face red with the effort to remain silent.

"Now, I'm going to say this once and I'm not going to say it again. We are lucky, damn lucky, that Sam's alive. The very last thing we need is the two of you lumbering around here like brainless Neanderthals. So you're either going to suck it up and deal with each other, or I'll make sure that neither of you get within spitting distance of her." Her eyes narrowed as they flitted back and forth between the two men. "Have I made myself clear?"

Testosterone-fueled pride pursed their lips, but both managed a halfhearted mumble of assent, nodding their heads. It was enough for Marissa, who slowly withdrew her hands and took a step back, still standing between them.

"Fredward, Spencer, Sam's being taken to the third floor – room 378." She looked down at her watch. "If you go now, she's probably already there." She raised a hand against the protest Raj was set to raise. "Mr. Patel, that Power of Attorney can't do what you want, but it does make you responsible for some paperwork. Now, if you'll come with me we can take care of it…and afterwards I'll take you to see Samantha."

Raj nodded his head, avoiding Freddie's triumphant gaze. Marissa extended a hand toward the nurse's station at the end of the hall and Raj, his jaw tight and eyes blazing with an anger he knew better than to voice, set off toward it. Shaking her head, Marissa turned to Freddie and Spencer.

"That was…intense." Spencer said.

"Listen Mom, thanks for…"

"I meant what I said, Fredward."

"I know mom, and I'm sorry. He just makes me so…" he groaned, running a hand through his hair.

"Angry, I get it. He's not the most…pleasant person I've ever come across but, like it or not, Fredward, he's a part of Samantha's life and…he's hurting too."

Freddie nodded, flinging her words to the furthest corner of his mind. He had no desire to consider how this, any of it, was affecting Raj. And even less desire to think of the part he'd played in Sam's life. His mother patted his arm and offered him a smile.

"Just, try to stay calm. That's what Sam needs now." She reached up and ruffled his hair, like he was still seven and his biggest worry was a melted ice cream cone or a Cracker Jack box without a prize. "Go on…I'll be down in a little while."

He turned toward the elevators and headed down to the third floor with Spencer in tow. Spencer was, thankfully, quiet on the ride down, but the relative silence of the elevator was filled with a whirlwind of thoughts.

_What would she look like?_

_Would she be happy to see him?_

_What happens now?_

He'd spent the last hours worried, terrified, and desperate to know Sam would be okay. Now she was and an all new wave of fear was washing over him. He'd almost come to blows with Raj over the right to be there with her, to see her face, but what if _she_ didn't want that? What if she opened her eyes, took one look at him sitting beside her, and threw him out on his ass? It'd be painfully poetic – and nothing more than he deserved after what he'd done to her.

"You ready?"

How did he say no without sounding like a coward? How did he move forward with no idea of how it might turn out?

He drew in a breath to steady himself and turned to Spencer with a weak smile.

"Let's go."

* * *

><p>He should write a book, tailor made for moments like this. Call it, <em>'What to Say and Do in Desperately Awkward Situations.'<em> He'd make a killing.

He stood stiffly near the foot of Sam's bed. He'd stared at her face for so long his mind started playing tricks on him, and five minutes previously, he could have sworn he saw her smile. He shook his head and rubbed at his tired eyes. He hadn't slept, really slept, in nearly twenty four hours and the weight of exhaustion left him feeling jittery and off balance.

Spencer sat in a chair near Sam's bed. While Freddie looked at Sam, Spencer looked at Freddie – his face awash with concern.

"Don't," Freddie said, turning toward the window, his back to the room.

"Don't what?" Freddie heard the scraping of a chair against the linoleum floor as Spencer stood and walked toward the window.

"Don't ask me how I am." Freddie turned to face him. "I know that's what you were going to say."

Spencer studied him for a moment, and then looked away, his eyes resting on Sam's still form.

"I wasn't going to ask," he said, turning back to Freddie, "I already know you're not. So…" he smiled, "How about coffee…Carly used to say there are hardly any problems coffee can't fix."

Freddie nodded and watched as Spencer crossed the room and headed out the door. With a sigh, he walked to the side of the bed, lowering himself into the chair. He stared down at her. He was quite sure he'd never seen her so still. For most of their childhood, she'd been in constant motion. He'd always thought that might be the way she stayed so thin, despite her appetite…the calories never had a chance to catch up with her.

She'd been gone for six years but, in his mind, she was still loud, opinionated, feisty Sam Puckett – hurling insults and demanding sustenance. He almost expected her to jump up, see him sitting there and punch him square in the jaw, demanding to know who he thought he was for throwing her out in the first place. He put a hand to his face. He'd prefer that kind of pain to what he felt now.

_Suck it up you nub!_

That's what she'd say, if she could say something. Or at least that what the old Sam, his Sam, would have said.

"You always had a way with words," he whispered, dragging his chair, tentatively, closer to her bedside. "That was a joke," he said, clearing his throat. "But I guess this isn't the time for jokes." He continued to look at her, a thought occurring to him. "You know what I remember-we were like eleven years old and it had snowed really hard that year and Carly told you that she'd never been sledding." He smiled at the memory. "So you showed up at her house on a Saturday at like nine in the morning, which we both know is super early for you, carrying the biggest sled I'd ever seen up close."

"I thought you were gonna take us to a little hill, you know- just so Carly could say she'd done it. But not you, I should have known better. You took us to that giant hill behind the old IGA." He laughed. "I thought Carly was going to pee herself she was so scared. I think…I think we were probably all scared. Carly took one look at that hill and said there was no way she was going down. To be honest, I was glad she'd said it because I was pretty sure I couldn't do it either. But I didn't want to say anything. Even back then, I didn't want you to think I was weak." He stopped, leaning over the edge of her bed seeing her, not as she was now, but as a tiny, wild haired eleven year old – her cheeks tinged red from the cold and wind, standing on a hill, willing her friends to be brave. "I figured you'd laugh at us for not going down, or at least laugh at me. But you instead you put that sled on the top of the hill, grabbed Carly's hand and then mine, and you said, "Don't sweat it, we'll do it together. It was the first time you'd really touched me, outside of hitting me I mean."

The memory was vivid in his mind. Him in a bright blue coat, bundled under two sweaters, an undershirt, a scarf, a hat, and gloves so large he could hardly bend his fingers. Carly all in pink down to her boots, and Sam no hat, mismatched gloves and her coat only half zipped. They were a misfit group that no one would have purposely put together. But when they sat down on that sled, hands locked, Carly's eyes wide with fear, Sam wild with excitement and Freddie just praying he didn't come home bleeding, he knew Sam had been right. Terrified though he was, surrounded by Carly and Sam he knew he'd be okay.

"I've missed that feeling, you know." He sniffed as tears burned the back of his eyes. "Back then I always knew that if I was scared or if something didn't make sense it would be okay because I had Carly and…I had you. But then…" he wiped at his face, "then Carly was gone and it felt like the world got smaller or darker somehow and it was awful but I thought 'I'll be alright, I can handle this. Sam and I can handle this.' Then you were gone and…" he felt his breath catch in his chest, "God Sam! I was so mad…so fucking…angry at you! You, you were my whole world!" he lowered his head into his hands.

This wasn't what he'd intended to say. But now that those words had been said he realized how true they were, and how much of the last six years he'd spent lying to himself. He reached out and tucked her small hand between both of his, marveling at how small it was – and how well it still fit into his own.

"You know, for a very long time I told myself that it didn't matter. That you made the mistake and I was over it. I think I might have still been telling myself that when you showed up the other day. It was easy, being angry at you, pretending…that we'd never happened, when I couldn't see you. You'd be surprised how easy it is to be mad at a ghost. But then I saw you and…I don't think I realized just how much I'd missed you…until I saw you."

"I had a million things I was going to say…if I ever saw you again. I was going to tell you how badly you'd messed up. How great my life was without you in it. How little you ever meant to me. But to say those things…I'd be lying to you. And to myself."

He didn't bother to wipe the tears the fell onto their joined hands, instead he leaned over and laid his head on them, whispering into the quiet room.

"If you were awake right now I'd tell you that it wasn't just you Sam – we've both messed up. And my life hasn't been the same since the day you left, because you meant everything to me." He paused, "And I'm sorry. I'm sorry for what I did, I'm sorry for what I said, and most of all I'm sorry that you thought you had to walk away."

He lapsed into silence, the heaviness in his chest preventing any further words. He drew in great gasps of air, attempting to steady himself as six years' worth of pain overtook him.

"Why…Sorry?"

The voice was strained and soft –barely a whisper, but he'd have known it anywhere.

"Sam!" he said, louder than he'd intended. Her blue eyes met his and he thought he'd never again see anything more beautiful. "You're awake."

* * *

><p><strong>AN2: So…what did you think? Love it? Hate it? Leave me a review and let me know…**


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